1864-1941 


LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 


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ife 


LITTLE  PJtUDY'S  FLTAWA.T  SERIES. 


LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 


BY 


SOPHIE    MAY,     c 


AUTHOR  OP  "  LITTLB  PRUDY  STORIES,"  "  DOTTY  DIMPLH 
STORIES,"  "  THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 

LEE,  SHEPARD  AND  DILLINGHAM. 
1874. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873, 

BY  LEE  AND  SHEPABD, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  19  Spring  Lane, 


DEDICATION. 


TO 


LITTLE    MARY   TOBEY. 


LITTLE  PRUDY'S  FLYAWAY  SERIES. 

TO  BE  COMPLETED  IN  SIX  VOL3. 


1.  LITTLE   IHOLKS 

2.  I>JRTjr>Y    KEEPING}-    HOUSE. 

3.  ^.TJNT    M^JDGKE'S    STORY. 

4.  LITTLE 

5.  LITTLE 

6.  (In  preparation.) 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE . 

I.  THE  PARLINS.       ......  9 

II.  WALKING  IN  SLEEP.         ...»  21 

III.  THE  TRUNDLE-BED 41 

IV.  THE  OX-MONEY 53 

V.  THE  BOY  THAT  WORE  HOME  THE  MEDAL.    .  63 

VI.  THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT  TO  MIND  HIS  MOTHER.  80 
VII.  THE  BOY  THAT  CHEATED.     ....  97 

VIII.  THE  "  NEVER-GIVE-UPS."  ...  113 

IX.  THE  MUSTER '.  .134 

X.  GOING  TO  SEA.           .....  153 

XI.  To  THE  FORKS.    .        .        .        .        .        .  173 

XII.  "  I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW."  .  ...  197 

XIII.  CONCLUSION. 215 


LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PAELINS. 

HE  did  look  so  funny  when  they  first 
put  him  into  "  pocket-clothes ! "  His 
green  "breeches"  were  so  tight  that  they 
made  you  think  of  two  pods  of  marrow 
fat  peas,  only  they  were  topped  off  with 
a  pair  of  "  rocco "  shoes,  as  red  as  bell- 
peppers.  He  had  silver  buckles  on  his 
shoes,  and  brass  buttons  on  his  green  jack 
et,  which  was  fastened  at  the  back.  He 
had  a  white  collar  about  his  neck  as  large 
as  a  small  cape,  and  finished  off  around 

9 


10   ;  .;  t.;  .O^TTT-LE,  GRANDFATHER. 

the  edge  with,  a  ruffle.  His  mother  had 
snipped  his  dark  locks  so  they  needn't 
look  so  much  like  a  girl's ;  and  then  with 
his  brown  fur  hat  on,  which  his  grand 
father  Cheever  had  sent  from  Boston,  he 
looked  in  the  glass  and  smiled  at  himself. 

Do  you  wonder  he  smiled? 

He  had  bright  black  eyes,  red  cheeks,  and 
a  rich,  dark  skin.  He  was  a  handsome  little 
creature ;  but  when  he  was  tanned,  his 
brother  Stephen  called  him  a  "Pawnee 
Indian,"  which  was  a  heavy  joke,  and 
sank  deeper  into  Willy's  tender  soul  than 
Stephen  suspected. 

After  he  had  viewed  himself  in  the 
mirror,  dressed  in  his  new  suit,  he  ran  to 
his  best  comforter,  his  mother,  and  said, 
with  a  quivering  lip,  — 

"  Isn't  I  most  white,  mamma  ?  " 


THE  PAKLINS.  11 

His  mother  caught  him  to  her  breast  and 
hugged  him,  brown  fur  hat  and  all,  and  told 
him  he  mustn't  mind  Steenie's  jokes ;  he 
was  not  an  Indian,  and  Molly  Molasses  — 
the  squaw  who  came  around  with  baskets 
to  sell  —  would  never  carry  him  off. 

He  was  three  years  old  at  this  time,  and 
so  full  of  high  spirits  and  health,  that  he 
was  rather  a  troublesome  child  to  manage. 
Mrs.  Parlin  sometimes  remarked,  with  a 
sigh  and  a  smile,  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  our 
Willy!" 

If  she  had  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  do  without  him,"  it  would  have  been 
nearer  the  truth  ;  for  never  did  mother  dote 
more  on  a  child.  He  was  the  youngest,  and 
two  little  children  next  older  —  a  son  and  a 
daughter  —  had  been  called  to  their  heav- 


12  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

enly  home  before  lie  was  born.  People 
said  Mrs.  Parlin  was  in  a  fair  way  to  spoil 
Willy,  and  her  husband  was  so  afraid  of 
it,  that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  be  very  stern 
with  the  boy. 

Seth,  the  oldest  son,  helped  his  father 
in  this,  and  seemed  to  be  constantly  watch 
ing  to  see  what  Willy  would  do  that  was 
wrong. 

Stephen,  two  years  younger  than  Seth, 
was  not  so  severe,  and  hardly  ever  scolded, 
but  had  a  very  "  hectoring  disposition," 
and  loved  dearly  to  tease  his  little  brother. 

Love,  the  only  sister,  and  the  eldest  of 
the  family,  was  almost  as  soothing  and 
affectionate  to  Willy  as  Mrs.  Parlin  her 
self.  She  was  tall,  fair,  and  slender,  like 
a  lily,  and  you  could  hardly  believe  it  pos 
sible  that  she  would  ever  grow  to  be  such 


THE  PAELINS.  13 

a  very  large  woman  as  her  mother,  or  that 
Mrs.  Parlin  had  once  been  thin  and  deli 
cate,  like  Love. 

There  was  another,  besides  these  two, 
who  petted  Willy;  and  that  was  "  Liddy," 
the  housemaid.  Lydia  was  a  Quaker  wo 
man,  and  every  "First  Day"  and  "Fifth 
Day"  —  that  is,  Sunday  and  Thursday  — 
she  went  off  to  a  meeting,  which  was  held 
over  the  river,  three  miles  away,  in  a  yellow 
"meeting-house"  without  any  steeple.  It 
was  not  always  convenient  to  spare  Lydia 
on  "Fifth  Day,"  for,  Mr.  Parlin  kept  a 
country  hotel,  or,  as  it  was  called  in  those 
days,  a  "tavern,"  and  there  was  plenty 
of  work  to  be  done ;  but  no  matter  how 
much  company  came,  "  Liddy  "  would  leave 
her  pies  half  rolled  out  on  the  board,  or 
her  goose  half  stuffed,  and  walk  off  to  the 


14  LITTLE  GBANDFATHEK. 

Quaker  settlement  to  meeting.  But  when 
she  came  back,  she  went  steadily  to  work 
again,  and  was  such  a  good,  honest,  pious 
woman,  that  nobody  thought  of  finding  any 
fault  with  her. 

She  was  all  the  "  regular  help  "  Mrs.  Par- 
lin  had ;  but  Mrs.  Knowles  did  the  wash 
ing,  and  often  Siller  Noonin  came  in  to 
help  Lydia  with  an  extra  baking. 

Caleb  Gushing  —  or,  as  the  country  peo 
ple  called  him,  "Kellup" —  was  the  man  of 
all  work,  who  took  care  of  the  sheep  and 
cattle,  and  must  always  be  ready  to  "  put 
up"  the  horses  of  any  traveller  who  hap 
pened  to  stop  at  the  house. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parlin,  the  four  children, 
and  Caleb  and  Lydia,  made  up  the  house 
hold,  with  the  addition  of  great  shaggy 
Fowler,  the  dog,  and  speckled  Molly,  the 
cat,  with  double  fore-paws. 


THE  PAELINS.  15 

Grandfather  Cheever,  with  his  hair  done 
up  in  a  queue,  came  sometimes  from  Boston, 
and  made  a  long  visit ;  but  you  could  hardly 
say  he  belonged  to  the  family. 

Now,  my  story  is  to  be  about  Willy,  and 
I  would  like  to  describe  him ;  but  how  can 
I,  when  I  have  heard  such  various  accounts 
of  the  child?  I  suppose,  if  you  had  ques 
tioned  the  family  about  him,  you  would 
have  heard  a  different  story  from  every  one. 
His  father  would  have  shaken  his  head, 
and  said,  Willy  was  a  "  singular  child  ;  there 
was  no  regulation  to  him."  Seth  would 
have  told  you  he  was  "  impudent."  Stephen 
would  have  called  him  "  a  cry-baby,"  and 
Caleb,  "  the  laziest  little  chap  he  ever  came 
across;"  though  "  grandf  ther  Cheever" 
thought  him  "very  bright  and  stirring." 
Love  would  have  said,  "  He  is  so  affection- 


16  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

ate !  "  which  his  father  very  much  doubted. 
Lydia  might  possibly  have  called  him  a 
"  rogue,"  because  he  would  spy  out  her 
doughnuts  and  pies,  no  matter  where  she 
hid  them  away  for  safe  keeping. 

But  I  know  very  well  how  his  mother 
would  have  answered  your  question  about 
Willy.  She  would  have  said,  "  Don't 
talk  of  his  faults ;  he  is  my  own  little 
darling." 

And  then  she  would  have  opened  her 
arms  wide,  and  taken  him  right  in:  that  is 
the  way  it  is  with  mothers. 

Thus  you  see  our  Willy  was  not  the 
same  to  everybody;  and  no  child  ever  is. 
To  those  who  loved  him  he  was  "  sweet 
as  summer ; "  but  not  so  to  those  who 
loved  him  not. 

I    suspect    Willy    was    rather    contrarily 


THE   PARLINS.  17 

made  up  ;  something  like  a  mince  pie,  per 
haps.  Let  us  see. 

Short  and  crusty,  now  and  then;  rich, 
in  good  intentions;  sweet,  when  he  had 
his  own  way ;  sour,  when  you  crossed  him ; 
well-spiced,  with  bright  little  speeches.  All 
these  qualities  made  up  Willy's  "points;" 
and  you  know  a  mince  pie  is  good  for 
nothing  without  points.^ 

Some  people  brought  out  one  of  these 
"  points,"  and  some  another.  Seth  expected 
him  to  be  as  sharp  as  cider  vinegar ;  and  so 
I  am  afraid  he  was,  whenever  Seth  corrected 
him.  But  his  mother  looked  for  sweet 
qualities  in  her  little  darling,  and  was 
never  disappointed. 

Willy  slept  in  the  bedroom,  in  a  trundle- 
bed  which  had  held  every  one  of  the  children, 
from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest.  After  he 
2 


18  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

had  said  his  prayers,  Mrs.  Parlin  tucked  him 
up  nice  and  warm,  and  even  while  she  stood 
looking  at  his  rosy  cheeks,  with  the  rich 
fringes  of  his  eyelids  resting  on  them,  he 
often  dropped  off  into  dreamland.  She  had 
a  way  of  watching  him  in  his  sleep,  and 
blessing  him  without  any  words,  only  say 
ing  in  her  heart,  — 

"  Dear  God,  let  me  keep  this  last  precious 
treasure  !  But  if  that  may  not  be,  O,  lay 
it  up  for  me  in  heaven." 

Willy  was  afraid  to  go  to  bed  alone,  which 
is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at ;  for  he  had  a 
strange  and  dreadful  habit  of  walking  in 
his  sleep.  Such  habits  are  not  as  common 
now  as  they  were  in  old  times,  I  believe. 
Whether  Willy's  walks  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  cider  and  doughnuts,  which  were 
sometimes  given  him  in  the  evening,  un- 


THE  PARLINS.  19 

known  to  his  mother,  I  cannot  say ;  but 
Mrs.  Parlin  was  never  sure,  when  she 
"  tucked  "  him  into  his  trundle-bed,  that  he 
would  spend  the  night  there.  Quite  as 
likely  he  would  go  wandering  about  the 
house  ;  and  one  cold  winter,  when  he  was 
a  little  more  than  seven  years  old,  he  got 
up  regularly  every  night,  and  walked  fast 
*  asleep  into  the  bar-room,  which  was  always 
full  of  men,  and  took  his  seat  by  the 
fireplace. 

This  was  such  a  constant  habit,  that  the 
men  expected  to  see  him  about  half  past 
eight  o'clock,  just  as  much  as  they  expected 
to  see  the  cider  and  apples  which  "  Kellup  " 
brought  out  of  the  cellar. 

In  those  days  cider  was  almost  as  freely 
drunk  as  water,  and  so,  I  grieve  to  say,  was 
New  England  rum  and  brandy ;  and  you 


20  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

must  not  suppose  Mr.  Parlin  was  a  bad 
man  because  he  allowed  such  drinking  in 
his  bar-room.  There  were  no  pledges  signed 
in  those  days,  but  he  was  a  perfectly  temper 
ate  man,  and  a  church  member ;  he  would 
have  thought  it  very  strange  indeed  if  any 
one  had  told  him  he  was  doing  wrong  to 
sell  liquor  to  his  neighbors. 

And  now,  having  introduced  Master  Willy 
and  the  rest  of  the  family  as  well  as  I  can, 
I  will  go  on  to  tell  you  a  few  of  Willy's 
adventures,  some  of  which  occurred  while 
he  was  asleep,  and  some  while  he  was 
awake. 


WALKING  IN  SLEEP.  21 


CHAPTER   II. 

WALKING  IN  SLEEP. 

ABOUT  seven  o'clock,  one  cold  evening, 
Willy  was  in  the  bar-room,  sitting  on 
Caleb's  knee,  and  holding  a  private  con 
versation  with  him,  while  he  nibbled  a 
cookie. 

"Don't  you  think  it's  the  beautifulest 
bossy  ever  you  saw  ?  " 

"Well,  middlin'  handsome,"  replied  Ca 
leb,  mischievously ;  "  middlin'  handsome." 

"  O,  Caleb,  when  it's  got  a  white  place 
in  its  forehead  shaped  so/"  said  Willy, 
biting  his  cookie  into  something  like  the 
form  of  a  star. 


22  LITTLE   GKANDFATHEE. 

"  Well,  yes ;  you  see  he'd  be  quite  a 
decent-looking  calf,  if  it  wasn't  for  that 
white  streak,  now,"  said  Caleb,  in  a  tone 
of  regret. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  that  white  streak ! 
Why,  Caleb  Gushing  !  —  when  'twas  put 
there  to  purpose  to  be  kissed  !  Love 
said  so." 

"  Well,  everybody  to  their  fancy,"  re 
turned  Caleb,  dryly,  "  I  never  had  any 
notion  for  kissing  cattle,  myself." 

"  She  isn't  a  cattle,  Gale  Gushing.  She's 
my  bossy." 

"  Yours,  do  you  say  ?  Then  you'd  bet 
ter  take  care  of  him,  Willy.  He  walked 
up  to  the  kitchen  door  to-day,  to  see  if 
he  could  find  anything  there  to  lay  his 
hands  on." 

44  Hands  ?     He  hasn't  any  hands,  Caleb ! 


WALKING   IN  SLEEP.  23 

But  you  ought  to  take  care  of  her,  any 
way,  till  I  grow  a  man  ;  father  spects  you 
to.  And  then,  when  she  gets  to  be  a 
ox—'' 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  when 
she  gets  to  be  a  ox  ?  " 

Willy  looked  puzzled.  He  had  never 
thought  of  that  before. 

"  Have  him  killed  —  shan't  you,  sonny  ? 
He'll  make  very  nice  eating." 

Willy  stood  upright  on  Caleb's  knee,  in 
horror  and  amaze. 

"My  bossy  killed?  I'll  send  anybody  to 
jail  that  kills  that  bossy." 

"  Then  perhaps  you'd  better  trade  him 
off  now  to  Squire  Lyman.  Didn't  the 
squire  offer  to  swap  his  baby  for  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  so  I  would  if  that  baby  was 
a  boy,"  said  Willy,  thoughtfully  ;  "  but 


24  LITTLE  GEANDFATHEK. 

she's  only  a  girl  —  couldn't  help  me  bring 
in  chips,  you  know.  Guess  I  don't  want 
a  girl-baby." 

Caleb  laughed  at  this  very  quietly,  but 
his  whole  frame  was  shaking ;  and  Willy 
turned  round  and  looked  him  in  the  eye 
with  strong  displeasure. 

"  What  you  laughing  at,  Cale  Gushing  ? 
You  mustn't  make  fun  of  my  bossy.  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  her.  I'll  keep 
her  to  haul  hay  with." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  one  ox  hauling  hay 
alone,  Willy?" 

"No;  but  I'll  have  a  little  cart,  and 
then  she  can." 

"  But  the  trouble  is,  Willy,  your  ox 
might  feel  lonesome." 

"  Well,  I'll  buy  one  ox  more,  and  then 
he  won't  be  lonesome." 


WALKING  IN   SLEEP.  25 

"All!  but,   Willy,   oxen   cost  money." 

"  'Sif  I  didn't  know  that !  How  much 
money  do  they  cost,  Caleb?" 

"  Sometimes  more,  sometimes  less.  Pretty 
high  this  winter,  for  hay  is  plenty.  There 
was  a  man  along  from  the  west'ard,  and, 
Willy,  what  think  he  offered  your  pa  for 
that  brindled  yoke  of  his?" 

"Three  dollars?" 

"  Seventy-five  dollars  ;  and  your  pa 
wouldn't  let  'em  go  under  ninety  !  Think 
of  that,"  added  Caleb,  dropping  his  voice, 
and  appearing  to  talk  to  the  beech-wood 
fire,  which  was  crackling  in  the  big  fire 
place.  "  Think  of  that !  Ninety  dollars  ! 
Enough  to  buy  a  small  farm !  Just  what 
I  should  have  got  in  the  logging-swamp, 
winter  before  last,  if  Dascom  hadn't  cheat 
ed  me  out  of  it." 


26  LITTLE   GBANDFATHEK. 

"What   did   you   say,    Caleb?" 

"  O,  I  was  just  talking  to  myself,"  re 
plied  Caleb,  rather  bitterly.  "  It  wasn't 
anything  little  boys  should  hear.  I  was 
only  thinking  how  easy  money  comes  to 
some  folks,  and  how  hard  it  comes  to 
others.  You.  see  I  worked  a  whole  win 
ter  once,  and  never  got  a  cent  of  pay ; 
and  I  couldn't  help  feeling  it  when  your 
pa  put  that  ninety  dollars  away  in  his 
drawer." 

"You  didn't  want  my  father's  money  — 
did  you,  Caleb  Cushing  ?  " 

"  No,  child ;  only  I  knew  if  I'd  had 
justice  done  me,  I  should  have  had  ninety 
dollars  myself.  It  was  mine  by  good  rights, 
and  I  hadn't  ought  to  be  cheated  out  of  it." 

Willy  looked  up  astonished.  What  did 
Caleb  mean  by  saying  it  was  "his  by  good 


WALKING  IN  SLEEP.  27 

rights"?  —  his  father's  money.  For  he  had 
not  heard  all  Caleb's  remarks,  and  what 
he  had  heard  he  had  entirely  misunder 
stood. 

"Willy!"  called  his  mother's  voice  from 
the  sitting-room;  but  the  little  fellow,  was 
too  excited  to  hear. 

"  Do  you  mean  my  father's  money,  Ca 
leb,  that  he  keeps  in  his  drawer?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  child ;  laid  inside  of  a  book," 
replied  Caleb,  carelessly. 

"What!  and  you  want  it?  —  my  father's 
money?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  laughed  Caleb  ;  "  off  to  bed, 
child.  Don't  you  hear  your  mother  call- 
ing?" 

Willy  slipped  down  from  the  man's  knee, 
and  walked  out  of  the  room  in  deep  thought. 
Why  Caleb  should  want  his  father's  money, 


28  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

and  say  he  had  a  right  to  it,  was  more 
than  he  could  understand;  and  he  went  to 
sleep  with  his  little  brain  in  a  whirl. 

Very  soon  tired  and  chilly  teamsters  began 
to  pour  into  the  bar-room,  and  rub  their 
hands  before  the  roaring  fire.  Caleb,  who 
had  quite  forgotten  his  unlucky  conversa 
tion  with  Master  Willy,  put  fresh  wood  on 
the  andirons,  and  brushed  the  hearth  with 
a  strip  broom.  Presently  Mr.  Paiiin  him 
self  appeared  in  the  doorway,  bearing  a 
huge  pitcher  of  cider,  which  sparkled  in  a 
jolly  way,  as  if  it  were  glad  to  leave  its 
hogshead  prison  in  the  dark  cellar,  and 
come  up  into  such  lively  company. 

"  Well,  neighbors,  this  is  a  cold  evening," 
said  Mr.  Parlin,  setting  the  pitcher  down 
on  the  counter,  and  looking  round  with  a 
hospitable  smile.  "  Caleb,  fetch  out  the 
loggerhead." 


WALKING  IN   SLEEP.  29 

Caleb  drew  from  the  left  ear  of  the  fire 
place  a  long  iron  bar,  and  thrust  it  into 
the  hot  coals.  That  was  the  loggerhead, 
and  you  will  soon  see  what  it  was  used 
for. 

While  it  was  still  heating,  Dr.  Hilton 
took  from  one  corner  of  the  room  a  child's 
arm-chair,  and  set  it  down  at  a  comforta 
ble  distance  from  the  fireplace. 

"  We'll  have  it  all  ready  for  Bubby, 
when  he  makes  us  his  visit,"  said  he, 
laughing. 

Some  one  always  placed  the  chair  there 
for  Willy,  and  it  was  usually  Dr.  Hilton. 

When  the  loggerhead  was  red  hot,  Caleb 
drew  it  out  of  the  coals,  and  plunged  it 
into  the  cold  cider,  which  immediately  be 
gan  to  bubble  and  hiss.  Then  he  poured 
the  sparkling  liquid  into  mugs  for  the 


30  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

thirsty  teamsters  to  drink ;  and  while  he 
was  still  holding  the  pitcher  high  in  air, 
that  the  cider  might  come  down  with  a 
good  "  bead,"  the  door  slowly  opened,  and 
in  glided  Willy,  in  his  yellow  flannel  night 
dress. 

The  men  smiled  and  nodded  at  one  an 
other,  but  said  nothing,  as  the  child  crossed 
the  floor,  seated  himself  in  the  little  red 
chair,  and  began  to  rock.  He  rocked  with 
such  careless  grace,  and  held  his  little  feet 
before  the  blaze  so  naturally,  that  you 
would  have  thought  he  came  into  the  room 
merely  to  warm  his  toes  and  to  hear  the 
men  talk.  You  would  never  have  supposed 
he  was  asleep  unless  you  had  looked  at  his 
eyes.  They  were  wide  open,  it  is  true, 
but  fixed,  like  a  doll's  eyes.  If  you  had 
held  a  lighted  candle  before  them,  I  sup 
pose  they  would  not  have  winked. 


THE  LITTLE  SLEEP-WALKER. — Page  31. 


WALKING  IN   SLEEP.  31 

In  fact,  Willy  was  fast  asleep  and  dream 
ing  ;  and  all  the  difference  between  him 
and  other  sleepers  was,  that  he  acted  out 
his  dreams. 

"Queer  what  ails  that  child!  Must  be 
trouble  on  the  brain,  and  he  ought  to  be 
bled,"  said  Dr.  Hilton,  with  the  wise  roll 
of  the  eye  he  always  gave  when  he  talked 
of  diseases. 

Nobody  answered,  for  the  doctor  had  said 
the  same  thing  fifty  times  before. 

Still  little  Willy  kept  on  rocking  and 
dreaming,  as  unconscious  as  a  yellow  lily 
swinging  on  its  stem. 

Everybody  had  a  story  to  tell,  which 
everybody  else  laughed  at,  while  the  fire 
joined  in  the  uproar  right  merrily.  Still 
Willy  slept  on. 

Presently  a  glare  of  light  at  the  windows 
startled  the  company. 


32  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"  Must  be  a  fire  somewhere !  "  said  one 
of 'the  men. 

"  Only  the  rnoon  rising,"  said  another. 

"  That's  no  place  to  look  for  the  moon," 
said  Mr.  Parlin,  seizing  his  hat  and  cloak. 

"  Fire !  Fire  !  "  shouted  Mr.  Riggs,  run 
ning  to  the  door  in  a  panic. 

"  I'll  warrant  it's  nothing  but  a  chimnej 
burning  out,"  remarked  Caleb,  coolly;  and 
when  all  the  rest  had  gone  to  learn  whal 
it  meant,  he  chose  to  stay  behind. 

There  was  nobody  left  in  the  bar-room 
now  but  himself  and  the  sleeping  Willy. 

"  Guess  I'll  take  a  look  at  the  drawer, 
and  see  that  the  money  is  all  right,"  said 
careful  Caleb,  stepping  inside  the  bar,  which 
had  a  long  wooden  grate,  and  looked  some 
what  like  an  enormous  bird-cage,  with  the 
roof  off.  "  Mr.  Parlin  is  a  very  careless 


WALKING  IN  SLEEP.  33 

man,"  said  Caleb,  drawing  a  key  from  its 
hiding-place  in  an  account-book  ;  "  he's 
dreadful  free  and  easy  about  money.  I 
don't  know  what  he'd  do  without  me  to 
look  out  for  him." 

So  saying,  Caleb  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock,  and  opened  the  drawer.  There  were 
rolls  of  bank  bills  lying  in  it,  and  handfuls 
of  gold  and  silver. 

"  With  so  many  coming  and  going  in  this 
house,  it's  a  wonder  Mr.  Parlin  ain't  robbed 
every  night  of  his  life,"  said  Caleb,  reck 
oning  over  the  bills  very  fast,  for  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  counting  money. 

Was  it  all  right  ?  Was  the  ox  money 
there?  When  the  "  man  from  the  west- 
'ard  "  paid  it  to  Mr.  Parlin,  Caleb  saw  Mr. 
Parlin  spread  it  between  the  leaves  of  a 
little  singing-book  and  lay  it  in  the  drawer. 
3 


84  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

Did  Caleb  find  it  there  now  ?  And  if  he 
did,  did  he  leave  it  there  ? 

Little  boys,  what  do  you  suppose  ?  You 
see  he  had  been  cheated  out  of  ninety  dol 
lars,  and  was  very  angry  about  it  ;  and 
now  he  had  the  best  chance  in  the  world 
to  help  himself  to  another  ninety  dollars, 
and  make  up  his  loss.  Do  you  think  he 
would  do  it  ?  Mr.  Parlin  was  very  careless 
about  money ;  quite  likely  he  would  never 
miss  this.  Was  that  what  Caleb  was  think 
ing  about,  as  he  knit  his  brows  so  hard  ? 

True,  Caleb  professed  to  fear  God,  but 
perhaps  he  did  not  fear  Him ;  perhaps  he 
had  been  living  a  lie  all  this  time  •  who 
knows  ? 

After  he  had  staid  inside  the  bar  a  little 
while,  he  came  out,  and  looking  carefully 
at  Willy,  to  make  sure  he  was  still  asleep, 


WALKING  IN   SLEEP.  85 

stole  out  doors  and  joined  the  teamsters. 
They  had  only  reached  the  top  of  the  hill, 
and  hardly  any  one  had  noticed  that  Caleb 
had  not  been  with  them  all  the  while. 
The  fire  was  only  Mr.  Chase's  chimney 
burning  out ;  but  it  was  so  late  by  this 
time  that  the  men  did  not  go  back  to  Mr. 
Parliii's  bar-room. 

Next  morning  Caleb  went  over  to  Cross 
Lots  to  see  about  selling  a  load  of  pota 
toes,  and  soon  after  he  left  there  was  a 
great  excitement  in  the  house.  Mr.  Parlin 
had  found,  on  going  to  his  money-drawer, 
that  he  had  lost  ninety  dollars. 

"Strange  !  "  said  he  ;  "I  remember  it  was 
there  all  safe  at  six  o'clock ;  for  I  saw  it 
with  my  own  eyes.  It  was  spread  in  an 
old  singing-book ;  and  the  singing-book  is 
gone  too." 


. 
36  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 


"  Could  anybody  have  taken  it?"  said 
Love.  "Who  was  here  last  night?" 

"  O,  I  never  leave  a  man  alone  in  the 
bar-room,"  replied  her  father;  "at  any  rate 
I  didn't  last  night." 

"  Caleb  would  attend  to  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Parlin ;  "he  is  more  particular  than  you 
are,  I  think." 

Willy  looked  up,  with  hi*  black  eyes  full 
of  questions. 

"  Was  it  that  money  you  had  for  the 
oxen,  papa  ?  Caleb  telled  me  all  about  it 
last  night.  He  said  you  ought  to  not  keep 
it ;  you  ought  to  give  it  to  him ;  he  want 
ed  it." 

Mr.  Parlin  shook  his  head  at  Willy. 
"  You  mustn't  make  up  such  stories  as 
that,  my  son." 

"  I  guess  he  dreamed  it,"  said  sister 
Love. 


WALKING   IN   SLEEP.  37 

"  0,  I  didn't,  I  didn't ;  Caleb  said  so," 
cried  Willy;  "he  said  so  last  night." 

Caleb  was  gone  an  unusually  long  time; 
and  when  Dr.  Hilton  returned  from  Harlow 
he  said  he  left  him  at  the  bank  in  that 
town  depositing  some  money. 

That  seemed  strange,  for  Caleb  had  been 
so  unfortunate  that  no  one  supposed  he 
had  any  money  to  put  in  the  bank. 

"If  it  was  anybody  but  Caleb,  I  should 
almost  suspect  he  took  that  ninety  dollars," 
said  Seth,  after  a  while. 

"Don't  —  don't  think  it,"  exclaimed  his 
mother;  "we  know  Caleb  too  well  for 
that." 

"  O,  no,  no,  no!"  cried  little  Willy. 
"Caleb  is  going  to  give  me  some  rabbits. 
Caleb  carries  me  pickaback ;  do  you  s'pose 
he'd  steal?" 


38  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

They  all  laughed  at  that;  it  was  a  little 
boy's  reasoning. 

"When  Caleb  came  home  that  night,  and 
was  asked  why  he  had  been  gone  so  long, 
he  blushed,  and,  as  Seth  thought,  looked 
guilty.  He  did  not  say  he  had  put  any 
money  in  the  bank,  and  did  not  even  men 
tion  having  been  at  Harlow  at  all.  Nobody 
could  think  why  he  should  make  such  a 
secret  of  going  to  Harlow,  for  Caleb  was  a 
great  talker,  and  usually  told  all  his  affairs 
to  everybody. 

"  Father  has  lost  ninety  dollars,  Caleb," 
said  Seth,  looking  him  straight  in  the  eye; 
"  who  do  you  suppose  has  got  it?" 

"  Where  ?  When  ?  "  cried  Caleb  ;  and 
then,  when  he  had  heard  the  story,  he 
turned  quite  pale,  and  declared  he  was 
"  'palled."  When  Caleb  was  greatly  amazed, 
he  said  he  was  "  'palled." 


WALKING   IN   SLEEP.  39 

It  was  very  uncomfortable  at  Mr,  Par- 
lin's  for  a  few  days.  Nobody  liked  to  be 
lieve  that  Caleb  had  taken  the  money,  but 
it  did  really  seem  very  much  like  it.  Mrs. 
Parlin  said  she  could  not  and  would  not 
believe  it,  and  she  even  shed  tears  when 
she  saw  her  husband  and  sons  treat  Caleb 
so  coldly. 

Poor  Caleb  !  Whether  he  was  guilty  or 
not,  he  was  certainly  very  unhapp}^. 

"  Willy,"  said  he,  "  what  made  you  tell 
your  father  I  said  I  wanted  his  money?  I 
never  made  such  a  speech  in  my  life  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  you  did,  Caleb !  Certain  true 
you  did !  And  I  a  sitting  on  your  knee. 
But  you  wouldn't  steal,  Gale  Gushing,  and 
I  telled  my  papa  you  wouldn't." 

" Willy,"  said  Caleb,  sadly,  "I  don't 
think  you  mean  to  tell  a  lie,  but  what  you 


40  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

are  talking  about  I  don't  know.  I  never 
stole  so  much  as  a  pin  in  my  life  ;  yet  all 
the  same  I  must  go  away  from  this  place. 
I  can't  stay  where  everybody  is  pointing 
the  finger  at  me." 

"  Who  pointed  a  finger  at  you,  Caleb  ? 
I  didn't  see  'em." 

Caleb  smiled  a  broken-hearted  smile,  kissed 
Willy  over  and  over  again,  and  went  away 
that  night,  no  one  knew  whither.  He  said 
to  himself, — 

"Honor  gone,  ALL'S  gone; 
Better  never  have  been  born." 

Was  he  guilty  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  Was 
he  innocent?  Then  you  may  be  sure  God 
would  make  it  clear  some  time.  Caleb  would 
only  have  to  wait. 


THE   TRUNDLE-BED.  41 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   TRUNDLE-BED. 

THEY  were  all  very  sorry  to  have  Caleb 
go  away,  for  lie  had  lived  in  the  family  a 
great  many  years,  and  was  always  good- 
natured  and  obliging. 

"  But  since  he  has  turned  out  to  be  a 
thief,  of  course  we  don't  want  him  here," 
said  Seth. 

"  How  can  you  speak  so,  my  son  ?  "  said 
his  mother,  reprovingly.  "  You  do  not 
really  know  any  harm  of  Caleb.  Remem 
ber  what  the  Bible  says,  c  Judge  not,  that 
ye  be  not  judged.' 

"  Why,  mother,  who  judged  Caleb?    Who 


42  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

ever  accused  him  of  stealing?  I  should 
think  he  judged  himself  —  shouldn't  you? 
When  a  man  runs  away  as  he  did,  it  looks 
very  much  as  if  he  was  guilty." 

"  O,  no,"  said  gentle  Love,  who  was 
knitting  "  double  mittens "  in  the  corner ; 
"that  isn't  a  sure  sign  at  all.  I  dare  say 
he  went  away  because  he  was  unhappy. 
How  would  you  like  to  live  with  people 
that  don't  trust  you?  Why,  Seth,  you 
couldn't  bear  it,  I'm  sure." 

"I  wish  Caleb  didn't  go  off,"  said  Willy; 
"  he  was  a-going  to  give  me  a  rabbit." 

"  Well,"  said  Stephen,  in  a  teasing  tone, 
"  he  wouldn't  have  gone  off  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you,  Master  Willy !  You  said  he 
wanted  father's  money,  you  know,  and 
that  was  what  put  us  to  thinking." 

"  O,  yes,  he  telled  me  he  wanted  it," 
cried  the  little  fellow  stoutly. 


THE   TRUNDLE-BED.  43 

"Willy,  Willy,  you  should  be  more  care 
ful  in  repeating  other  people's  words,"  said 
Mrs.  Parlin,  looking  up  from  the  jacket  she 
was  making.  "  Little  boys  like  you  are  so 
apt  to  make  mistakes,  that  they  ought  to 
say,  4  Perhaps,'  or,  '  I  think  so,'  and  never 
be  too  sure." 

"  Then  I'm  not  sure ;  but  perhaps  I  know, 
and  I  guess  I  think  so  real  hard." 

"  That's  right,  little  Pawnee  Indian," 
laughed  Stephen.  "Indians  like  you  al 
ways  stick  fast  to  an  idea  when  they  once 
get  hold  of  it." 

"I'm  not  an  Indian,"  said  Willy,  ready 
to  cry ;  "  and  I  never  said  Caleb  stealed ; 
'twas  you  said  so  ;  you  know  you  did." 

It  grew  very  cold  that  winter,  about 
"  Christmas-tide,"  and  one  night  the  wind 
howled  and  shrieked,  while  up  in  the  sky 


44  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

the  moon  and  stars  seemed  to  shiver  and 
shine  like  so  many  icicles.  Willy  had  been 
put  to  bed  at  the  usual  time,  and  nicely 
tucked  in,  and  it  was  nearly  half  past  eight, 
the  time  for  him  to  begin  his  wanderings. 
Lydia  sat  by  the  kitchen  fireplace,  comfort 
ing  herself  with  hot  ginger  tea. 

"  It  would  be  too  bad  for  that  little 
creetur  to  get  out  of  bed  such  a  night  as 
this,"  . thought  she;  "I'm  going  in  to  see 
if  he  has  enough  clothes  on.  Who  knows 
but  his  dear  little  nose  is  about  fruz  off  by 
this  time  ?  " 

So  she  stole  into  the  bedroom,  which 
opened  out  of  the  kitchen,  took  a  peep  at 
her  beloved  Willy,  made  sure  his  nose  was 
safe,  and  turned  down  the  coverlet  to  see 
if  his  hands  were  warm. 

"  Poor,    sweet    little    lamb !     Not    much 


THE   TBUNDLE-BED.  45 

cold  now ;  "but  thee  will  be  cold ;  this  room 
is  just  like  a  barn." 

Then,  as  "  Liddy  "  went  back  to  the  kitch 
en,  she  wondered  if  it  might  not  be  the 
cold  weather  that  made  Willy  have  what 
she  called  his  "  walking-spells." 

"  For  he  is  so  much  worse  in  winter  than 
he  is  in  summer,"  thought  she.  "Any 
way,  I'm  going  to  try,  and  see  if  I  can't 
put  a  stop  to  it  to-night ;  and  then,  if  the 
expeeriment  works,  I'll  try  it  again." 

What  "  expeeriment "  ?  You  will  soon 
see.  There  had  been  a  quantity  of  char 
coal  put  on  the  kitchen  fire  to  broil  some 
steak  for  travellers;  so  the  kind-hearted 
Liddy  bustled  about  on  tiptoe,  filled  a  shal 
low  pan  with  some  of  the  coals,  "  piping 
hot,"  and  placed  it  very  near  the  trundle- 
bed,  on  Mrs.  Parlin's  foot-stove. 


46  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

Alas  for  Liddy's  ignorance !  she  was  al 
ways  rather  foolish  in  her  fondness  for 
Willy ;  but  didn't  she  know  any  better  than 
to  put  a  dish  of  red  coals  so  near  him  in 
a  small  room,  and  then  go  out  and  shut 
the  door  ?  She  often  said  she  didn't  "  see 
any  use  in  all  this  book-larning,"  and  won 
dered  Mrs.  Parlin  should  be  so  anxious  to 
have  her  children  go  to  school.  In  her 
whole  life  Liddy  had  never  attended  school 
more  than  six  months ;  and  as  for  chemis 
try  and  philosophy  she  knew  nothing  about 
them  except  that  they  are  hard  words  to 
spell.  She  did  not  dream  that  there  was 
a  deadly  gas  rising  every  moment  from  that 
charcoal,  and  that  her  darling  Willy  was 
breathing  it  into  his  lungs.  She  may  have 
heard  of  the  word  "gas,"  but  if  she  had 
she  supposed  it  was  some  sort  of  "  airy 
nothing "  not  worth  mentioning. 


THE   TRUNDLE-BED.  47 

Of  course  you  know  that  if  she  had  hated 
Willy,  and  wished  to  murder  him,  she  could 
hardly  have  chosen  a  surer  w^ay  than  this  ; 
but  poor  Liddy  went  back  to  the  kitchen 
with  a  smiling  face,  feeling  well  pleased 
with  her  "  experiment"  and  began  to  chop 
a  hash  of  beef,  pork,  and  all  sorts  of  vege 
tables,  for  to-morrow's  breakfast. 

After  a  little  while  Willy  began  to  toss 
about  uneasily  ;  but  he  did  not  come  out  of 
the  room  and  Liddy  was  delighted.  She  had 
said  she  meant  to  put  a  stop  to  that ;  and 
so,  indeed,  she  had,  —  for  this  time  at  least. 
The  dear  child  had  not  strength  enough  to 
get  out  of  bed,  and  moaned  as  if  a  heavy 
hand  were  clutching  at  his  throat.  In  fact 
he  was  suffocating.  It  is  frightful  to  think 
of!  Was  nobody  corning  to  save  him? 

The   chilly  teamsters  had  some  time  ago 


48  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

crowded  into  the  bar-room  with  frost  on 
their  hair  and  whiskers ;  but  the  frost  was 
fast  turning  to  steam  as  they  drank  the 
cider  which  John,  the  new  hired  man,  heat 
ed  with  the  red-hot  loggerhead.  Dr.  Hil 
ton  had  set  out  the  little  red  chair,  and 
somebody  would  have  wondered  why  Willy 
did  not  come  in,  if  the  men  had  not  all 
been  so  busy  telling  stories  that  they  did 
not  have  time  to  think  of  anything  else. 

It  was  now  nearly  nine,  and  Mrs.  Par- 
lin  and  Love  were  in  the  sitting-room  sew 
ing  by  the  light  of  two  tallow  candles. 

"  Isn't  it  the  coldest  night  we've  had 
this  year,  mother?" 

"Yes,  dear,  I  think  it  is.  You  know 
what  the  old  ditty  says, — 

*  When  the  days  begin  to  lengthen, 
The  cold  begins  to  strengthen.' 


THE   TRUNDLE-BED.  49 

I  do  wish  dear  little  Willy  would  stay  in 
his  bed,  nicely  'happed'  in"  (happed  is 
the  Scotch  word  for  "  tucked "),  "  but  I 
suppose  he  is  just  as  well  off  by  the  bar 
room  fire.  It's  lucky  he  doesn't  take  a 
fancy  to  wander  anywhere  else,  and  we  can 
always  tell  where  he  is." 

"  But,  mother,  I  haven't  heard  him  pass 
through  the  south  entry,  —  have  you  ?  I 
always  know  when  he  goes  into  the  bar 
room  by  the  quick  little  click  of  the  latch." 

"So  do  I,"  replied  her  mother;  "but 
now  I  think  of  it,  I  haven't  heard  him  to 
night.  I  can't  help  hoping  he  is  going  to 
lie  still." 

There  was  nothing  more  said  for  a  lit 
tle  while.  They  were  both  very  busy  fin 
ishing  off  a  homespun  suit  for  Willy.  How 
should  they  suspect  that  a  strange  stupor 
4 


50  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

was  fast  stealing  over  their  little  darling? 
Who  was  going  to  tell  them  that  even  now 
he  was  entering  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  ?  Who  ?  I  cannot  answer  that  ques 
tion  ;  I  only  know  that  just  then  Mrs.  Par- 
lin,  who  was  going  to  bed  in  about  fifteen 
minutes,  and  did  not  like  to  leave  her  work 
yet,  suddenly  dropped  the  jacket,  which 
was  almost  done,  and  said,  — 

"Love,  I  guess  I'll  go  in  and  look  at 
that  child.  He  may  have  tossed  the  clothes 
off  and  got  a  little  chilly." 

Then  she  arose  from  her  chair  slowly,  — 
she  was  so  large  that  she  always  moved 
slowly, — took  one  of  the  candles,  and  went 
into  the  kitchen. 

As  she  opened  the  bedroom  door  —  Well, 
I  cannot  tell  you ;  you  will  have  to  imagine 
that  white,  white  face,  pressed  close  to  the 


THE   TRUNDLE-BED.  51 

pillow,  that  limp  little  figure,  stretched 
under  the  coverlet,  in  awful  stillness. 

"O  God,  is  it  too  late?"  thought  Mrs. 
Parlin.  She  saw  the  charcoal ;  she  under 
stood  it  all  in  an  instant. 

"  Lydia,   come  quick !  " 

A  low  moan  fell  on  her  ear  as  she  bent 
to  listen.  Thank  Heaven,  it  was  not  too 
late !  Willy  could  yet  be  saved ! 

Happy  mother,  receiving  her  precious  one 
as  if  from  the  dead!  Bewildered  Willy, 
coming  back  to  life  with  no  remembrance 
of  the  dark  river  which  he  had  almost 
forded,  without  a  thought  of  the  pearly 
gates  he  had  almost  entered ! 

Conscience-stricken  "Liddy!"  How  she 
suffered  when  she  found  what  she  had 
done !  Not  that  she  made  a  scene  by 
screaming  and  tearing  her  hair,  as  some 


52  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

ignorant  people  are  apt  to  do  at  such  a 
time.  No ;  Liddy  was  a  Quaker,  and  the 
Quaker  blood  is  very  quiet.  She  only 
pressed  her  hands  together  hard,  and  said 
to  Mrs.  Parlin,  — 

"  Thee   knows   I   never   meant  any   harm 
to  that  sweet   child." 


THE   OX-MONEY.  53 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    OX-MONEY. 

PERHAPS  the  shock  had  some  effect  upon 
Willy's  habits,  for  after  this  he  did  not 
walk  in  his  sleep  for  some  time. 

But  one  night,  as  the  teamsters  were 
drinking  their  cider,  and  talking  about  the 
well-beloved  "  Kellup,"  wondering  why  he 
should  take  it  into  his  head  to  steal,  — 
"  as  honest  a  man,  they  had  always  thought, 
as  ever  trod  shoe-leather,"  —  the  bar-room 
door  softly  opened,  and  in  glided  Willy,  in 
his  flannel  night-dress. 

The  men  were  really  glad  to  see  him, 
and  nodded  at  one  another,  smiling,  but, 


54  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

as  usual,  made  no  remark  about  the  child. 
They  knew  he  could  not  hear,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  he  could,  and  they  were  ° 
little  careful  what  they  said  before  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Parlin,  going  on  to 
speak  of  Caleb,  "I  considered  him  an  hon 
est,  God-fearing  man,  and  trusted  him  as 
I  would  one  of  my  own  sons.  If  there 
was  any  other  way  to  account  for  that 
money,  I  should  be  glad,  I  assure  you, — 
as  glad  as  any  of  you." 

"  Where  has  Kellup  gone  to  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Griggs. 

"  Gone  to  Bangor,  they  say." 

All  this  while  Willy  had  not  seated  him 
self  in  his  little  chair,  but  was  walking 
towards  the  bar.  After  muttering  to  him 
self  a  little  while,  he  went  in  and  took 
from  the  shelf  the  old  account-book.  Mr, 


THE   OX-MONEY.  55 

Parlin  looked  at  the  teamsters,  and  put 
his  finger  on  his  lips  as  a  hint  for  them 
to  keep  still,  and  see  what  the  child 
would  do. 

Willy  felt  in  the  account-book  for  the 
key,  then  glided  along  to  the  money-drawer 
and  opened  it. 

"  There,  now,  it  isn't  here,"  said  he, 
after  he  had  fumbled  about  for  a  while 
with  his  chubby  fingers ;  "  the  book  isn't 
here  that  had  the  ox-money  in  it.  Caleb 
mustn't  have  that  money;  it  belongs  to  my 
father." 

The  men  grew  very  much  interested,  and 
began  to  creep  up  a  little  nearer,  in  order 
to  catch  every  word. 

"Money  all  gone,"  sighed  Willy;  and 
then,  appearing  to  think  for  a  moment, 
added,  "  O,  yes ;  but  I  know  whero  I  put 
it!" 


56  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

Breathless  with  surprise,  Mr.  Paiiin  and 
his  guests  watched  the  child  as  he  pat 
tered  with  bare  feet  across  the  floor  to 
the  west  side  of  the  room,  climbed  upon 
a  high  stool,  and  opening  the  "  vial  cup 
board,"  took  out  from  a  chink  in  the  wall, 
behind  the  bottles,  a  little  old  singing- 
book. 

It  was  only  the  danger  of  startling  Willy 
too  suddenly  that  prevented  the  amazed 
father  from  snatching  the  book  out  of  his 
hand. 

"  Yes,  the  ox-money  is  here,"  said  Willy, 
patting  the  notes,  which  lay  between  the 
leaves. 

How  do  you  suppose  he  could  see  them, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  and  vacant? 

Then  he  seemed  to  be  considering  for  a 
space  what  to  do ;  but  at  last  put  the  sing- 


THE   OX-MOEEY.  57 

ing-book  back  again  in  .the  chink  behind 
the  bottles,  clambered  down  from  the  stool, 
and  taking  his  favorite  seat  in  the  red 
chair,  began  to  warm  his  little  cold  feet 
before  the  fire. 

"Well,  that  beats  all!"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Hilton,  before  any  one  else  could  get  breath 
to  speak. 

Mr.  Parlin  went  at  once  to  the  cup 
board,  and  took  down  the  singing-book. 

"  The  money  is  safe  and  sound,"  said 
he,  as  he  looked  it  over,  —  "  safe  and 
sound  ;  and  Caleb  Gushing  is  an  honest 
man,  thank  the  Lord!" 

"  Three  cheers  for  Caleb!"  said  Dr. 
Hilton. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Kellup ! "  cried  one 
of  the  teamsters. 

And   quite   forgetting  the   sleeping  child, 


58  LITTLE   GKAKDFATHER. 

the  rest  of  the  teamsters  took  up  the  toast, 
and  shouted,  — 

"  Three  cheers  for  Kellup  Gushing  !  Hoo- 
ra-a-ay ! " 

Of  course  that  waked  Willy,  and  fright 
ened  him  dreadfully.  Imagine  yourself  going 
to.  sleep  in  bed,  and  waking  up  in  a  chair 
in  another  room,  in  a  great  noise.  It  was 
the  first  time  the  little  fellow  had  ever 
been  roused  from  one  of  his  "  walking- 
spells,"  and  they  had  to  carry  him  away 
to  his  mother  to  be  comforted. 

He  *  did  not  know  that  night  what  had 
happened;  but  next  morning  they  told  him 
that  Caleb  did  not  steal  the  money,  and 
that  papa  had  written  a  letter  to  beg  him 
to  come  back. 

"And  how  think  we  found  out  that  Ca 
leb  didn't  steal?"  asked  Stephen. 


THE   OX-MONEY.  59 

Of  course  Willy  had  not  the  least  idea. 

"  Because  you  stole  the  money  yourself!" 
replied  the  hectoring  Stephen. 

"  O,  what  a  story ! "  exclaimed  Willy, 
angrily.  "  'S  if  Id  steal !  " 

"  Ah,  but  you  did,  little  man !  I'll  leave 
it  to  father  if  you  didn't ! " 

Willy  stamped  and  kicked.  He  had  a 
high  temper  when  it  was  aroused,  and 
his  sister  Love  had  to  come  and  quiet 
him. 

"  You  took  the  money  in  your  sleep," 
said  she.  "  You  didn't  mean  to  do  it ; 
you  are  not  a  thief,  dear ;  and  we  love 
you  just  as  well  as  we  did  before." 

They  all  thought  Willy  must  have  had 
a  dream  about  Caleb  and  the  ox-money, 
or  he  would  never  have  gone  and  taken 
the  singing-book  out  of  the  drawer;  but 


60  UTTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

from   that   day  to   this   he   has   never   been 
able   to   remember   the   dream. 

Caleb  cried  for  joy  when  he  received 
the  letter,  and  fell  on  his  knees,  —  so  he 
afterwards  told  grandpa  Cheever,  —  and 
thanked  his  heavenly  Father  for  bringing 
him  out  of  the  greatest  trial  he  had  ever 
had  in  his  life.  He  was  very  glad  to  go 
back  to  Mr.  Paiiin's,  and  everybody  there 
received  him  like  a  prince.  King  George 
the  Third,  coming  in  his  own  ship  from 
England,  would  not  have  been  treated  half 
so  well ;  for  the  Parlins  despised  him,  — 
poor  crazy  monarch,  —  whereas  they  now 
thought  Caleb  was  the  very  pink  of  per 
fection.  Even  Seth  begged  pardon  for  his 
hasty  judgment.  Mrs.  Paiiin  gave  him 
"  election  cake,"  for  supper,  and  some  of 
her  very  best  ginger  preserves,  and  said 


THE   OX-MONEY.  61 

she  did  not  see  how  they  could  make  up 
for  the  pain  of  mind  he  had  suffered. 

Caleb  confessed  that  he  had  felt  "  kind 
o'  bad ;  but  it  wasn't  worth  speaking  of 
now." 

After  this,  when  Willy  told  any  improb 
able  story,  and  insisted  that  it  was  true, 
as  children  often  will,  his  mother  had  only 
to  remark, — 

"  Remember  Caleb !  You  said  he  wanted 
your  father's  money.  Is  this  story  any 
more  reasonable  than  that?"  and  Willy 
would  blush,  and  stammer  out, — 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  isn't  true,  mamma.  I 
won't  tell  it  for  certain;  but  I  think  so, 
you  know! " 


I  believe  this  was  the  only  time  that  Willy 


62  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

ever  did  anything  in  his  sleep  that  is  worth 
recording.  The  rest  of  his  adventures  oc 
curred  when  he  was  wide  awake  ;  so,  you 
see,  if  he  did  wrong  there  was  not  so  much 
excuse  for  him. 


THE  MEDAL.  63 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BOY  THAT  WOKE  HOME  THE  MEDAL. 

THE  school-house  was  deep  red,  and 
shamed  the  Boston  pinks,  which  could  not 
blush  to  the  least  advantage  near  it.  It 
stood  on  a  sand-bank,  with  a  rich  crop 
of  thistles  on  three  sides,  and  an  oak  tree 
in  one  corner.  There  were  plenty  of  beau 
tiful  places  in  town;  but  the  people  of 
Perseverance,  District  Number  Three,  had 
chosen  this  spot  for  their  school-house,  be 
cause  it  was  not  good  for  anything  else. 

It  was  the  middle  of  September,  but  the 
summer  term  was  still  in  session,  because 
school  had  not  begun  that  year  until  after 


64  LITTLE   GBANDFATHEK. 

haying.  It  was  Saturday  noon,  and  the 
fourth  class  was  spelling.  The  children 
were  all  toeing  a  chalk-mark  in  the  floor, 
but  Willy  Parlin  scowled  and  moved  about 
uneasily. 

"  Order  there,"  said  Miss  Judkins,  pound 
ing  the  desk  with  her  ruler.  "  What 
makes  you  throw  your  head  back  so,  Wil 
liam  Parlin?" 

"  'Cause  there's  somebody  trying  to  tell 
me  the  word,  and  I  don't  want  anybody 
to  tell  me,"  answered  Willy,  with  another 
toss  of  his  dark  locks. 

Fred  Chase  was  sitting  on  a  bench  be 
hind  the  class,  with  an  open  spelling-book 
before  him,  and  was  the  "  somebody " 
who  had  been  whispering  the  word  to 
Willy ;  but  Willy  was  naturally  as  open 
as  the  day,  and  despised  anything  sly. 


THE   MEDAL.  65 

More  than  that,  he   knew  his  lesson  per 
fectly. 

Miss  Judkins  asked  no  more  questions, 
for  she  was  well  aware  that  Fred  Chase 
was  constantly  doing  just  such  things.  She 
smiled  as  she  looked  at  Willy's  noble 
face,  and  was  well  pleased  soon  after  to 
hear  him  spell  a  word  which  had  been 
missed  by  three  boys  above  him,  and 
march  straight  up  to  the  head.  She  al 
ways  liked  to  have  Willy  "  Captain,"  for 
deep  down  in  her  heart  he  was  her  favor 
ite  scholar.  There  were  only  a  few  more 
words  to  be  spelled ;  then  Willy  called 
out  "  Captain,"  the  next  boy  said  "  Num 
ber  One,"  the  third  "Number  Two," 
and  so  on  down  the  whole  twenty ;  and 
after  that  the  school  was  dismissed  for  the 
week. 

5 


66  LITTLE  GBA:NT>FATHER. 

The  "  mistress "  put  on  her  blue  ging 
ham  "  calash,"  —  a  big  drawn  bonnet  shaped 
like  a  chaise-top,  —  and  as  she  was  leaving 
the  house  she  whispered  to  Willy,  "Don't 
forget  what  I  told  you  to  say  to  your 
mother." 

"  No,  marm  ;  you  told  me  to  say  you'd 
asked  Mrs.  Lyman  if  it  was  so,  and  Mrs. 
Lyman  said,  "  Yes,  it  is  too  true" 

"  That  is  it,  exactly,  dear,"  replied  Miss 
Judkins,  smiling.  "  And  be  sure  you  don't 
lose  your  medal." 

She  said  that  just  for  fun,  and  it  was 
such  a  capital  joke  that  Willy's  eyes  twin 
kled.  Lose  the  quarter  of  a  dollar  dan 
gling  from  his  neck  by  a  red  string !  — 
the  medal  which  told  as  plainly  as  words 
can  speak,  that  he  had  left  off  that  day 
at  the  head  of  his  class ! 


THE   MEDAL.  67 

As  it  was  Saturday,  he  was  to  keep  the 
medal  till  Monday  morning — a  great  priv 
ilege,  and  one  he  had  enjoyed  two  or  three 
times  before.  But  there  was  this  draw 
back  ;  he  had  to  slip  the  medal  under  his 
jacket,  out  of  sight,  on  Sunday.  It  was  the 
more  to  be  regretted,  as  he  sat  in  one  of 
the  "  amen  pews,"  not  far  from  the  pul 
pit;  and  if  the  medal  might  only  hang 
outside  his  jacket,  where  it  ought,  Elder 
Lovejoy  would  certainly  catch  sight  of  it 
when  he  turned  round,  and  looked  through 
his  spectacles,  saying,  "  And  now,  seventh 
ly,  my  dear  hearers." 

Willy  would  sit,  to-morrow,  swelling  with 
secret  pride,  and  wishing  Elder  Lovejoy's 
eyes  were  sharp  enough  to  pierce  through 
his  jacket.  But  then,  as  he  told  his  moth 
er,  he  "  liked  the  feeling  of  the  medal,  even 


68  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

if  it  was  covered  up."  I  suppose  there 
was  some  satisfaction  in  knowing  lie  was 
more  of  a  boy  than  people  took  him  to  be. 

"  Wonder  what  it  is  that  Mrs.  Lyman 
says  is  too  true,"  thought  Willy,  taking  a 
piece  of  chalk  out  of  his  pocket,  and  draw 
ing  a  profile  of  Miss  Judkins  on  the  door- 
sill,  while  that  young  lady  tripped  along 
the  road,  brushing  the  golden-rod  and  sweet- 
fern  with  the  skirt  of  her  dress. 

"  Now  stop  that,  Gid  Noonin,"  said  he, 
as  a  large  boy  came  up  behind  him,  and 
tickled  him  under  the  arms.  "  Stop  that!" 
repeated  he,  making  chalk  figures,  as  he 
spoke,  in  the  ample  nose  of  Miss  Judkins. 

U7ber  18001,"  scrawled  he,  slowly  and 
carefully.  "  7ber  "  was  short  for  Septem 
ber  ;  and  Gideon  could  find  no  fault  with 
that,  for  people  often  wrote  it  so ;  but  lie 


THE  MEDAL.  69 

could  not  help  laughing  at  the  extra  cipher 
in  the  year  1801. 

"  Give  me  that  chalk,"  chuckled  he ; 
and  then  he  wrote,  in  bold  characters,  "  7ber 
the  15th,  1801." 

Willy  dropped  his  head.  He  had  not 
learned  to  write ;  but  did  he  want  to  be 
taught  by  that  great  Gid  Noonin,  the  stu 
pidest  boy  in  school  ?  Why,  he  had  gone 
above  Gid  long  ago,  just  by  spelling  "  ex 
act."  Gideon  spelt  it  e,  g,  z !  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  anything  so  silly?  And  he  a 
fellow  twelve  years  old!  Willy  was  just 
eight,  but  he  hoped  he  could  spell!  If 
you  doubted  it,  there  was  the  medal! 

Gideon  was  not  only  a  poor  scholar,  — 
he  was  regarded  as  a  bad  boy,  and  many 
mothers  warned  their  little  sons  not  to 
play  with  him. 


70  LITTLE   GRAOTOTATHEK. 

"  Look  here,  Billy,  what  you  up  to  this 
afternoon?  Going  anywhere?" 

"  Only  up  to  the  store,  I  guess.     Why?" 

"  O,  nothing  particular.  Just  asked  for 
fun." 

"  Well,  give  back  that  piece  of  chalk," 
said  Willy,  "for  it  isn't  mine.  Steve  keeps 
it  in  his  pocket  to  rub  his  shoe-buckles 
with." 

Gideon  laughed,  but  would  not  return 
the  chalk  till  he  had  whitened  Willy's 
jacket  with  it  and  the  top  of  his  hat. 
He  never  seemed  to  mean  any  harm,  but 
just  to  be  running  over  with  good-natured, 
silly  mischief. 

Willy  ran  home  whistling;  but  when  he 
saw  his  father  standing  in  the  front  entry, 
his  tune  grew  a  little  slower,  and  then 
stopped.  Mr.  Parlin  was  rather  stern  with 


THE   MEDAL.  71 

his  children,  and  did  not  like  to  have 
them  make  much  noise  in  the  house. 

"  Well,  my  son,  so  you  have  brought 
home  the  medal  again.  That's  right,  — 
that's  right." 

Willy  took  off  his  hat  when  his  father 
spoke  to  him,  and  answered,  "Yes,  sir," 
with  a  respectful  bow. 

There  were  two  or  three  men  standing 
in  the  doorway  which  led  into  the  bar 
room. 

"How  d'ye  do,  my  fine  little  lad?" 
said  one  of  the  men ;  "  and  what  is  your 
name  ?  " 

Now,  this  was  a  question  which  Deacon 
Turner  had  asked  over  and  over  again, 
and  Willy  was  rather  tired  of  answering 
it.  He  thought  the  deacon  might  remem 
ber  after  being  told  so  many  times. 


72  LITTLE  GBANDFATHEB.     - 

"  My  name  is  just  the  same  as  it  was 
the  other  day  when  you  asked  me,  sir," 
said  he. 

This  pert  speech  called  forth  a  laugh 
from  all  but  Mr.  Parlin,  who  frowned  at 
the  child,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  You  are  an  ill-mannered  little  boy,  sir. 
Go  to  your  mother,  and  don't  let  me  see 
you  here  again  till  you  can  come  back 
with  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head." 

Tears  sprang  to  Willy's  eyes.  He  really 
had  not  intended  any  rudeness,  and  was 
ashamed  of  being  reproved  before  stran 
gers.  He  walked  off  quite  stiffly,  wishing 
he  was  "  a  gro wed-up  man,  so  there 
wouldn't  anybody  dare  send  him  out  to 
his  mother." 

But  when  he  reached  the  kitchen,  he 
found  it  so  attractive  there  that  he  soon 


THE  MEDAL.  73 

forgot  his  disgrace.  A  roast  of  beef  was 
sizzling  before  the  fire  on  a  string,  and 
Siller  Noonin  was  taking  a  steaming  plum 
pudding  out  of  the  Dutch  oven,  while 
Mrs.  Parlin  stood  near  the  "  broad  dress 
er,"  as  it  was  called,  cutting  bread. 

"  O,  mother,  mother !  the  mistress  told 
me  to  tell  you  she  asked  Mrs.  Lyman 
what  you  asked  her  to,  and  she  told  her 
to  ask  me  to  tell  you  it  was  too  true.  — 
Now,  what  is  too  true,  mother?" 

"It  is  too  true  that  you  are  right  in 
my  way,  you  dear  little  plague,"  said 
Mrs.  Parlin,  stopping,  in  the  very  act  of 
cutting  bread,  to  hug  the  rosy-cheeked  boy. 
She  was  a  "business  woman,"  and  had 
many  cares  on  her  mind,  but  always  found 
time  to  kiss  and  pet  her  children  more 
than  most  people  did,  and  much  more 


74  LITTLE  GEANDFATHEE. 

than  Siller  Noonin  thought  was  really 
necessary. 

"But,  then,"  as  Siller  said,  "their  fa 
ther  never  makes  anything  of  them  at  all; 
so  I  suppose  their  mother  feels  obliged  to 
do  more  than  her  part  of  the  kissing." 

"  Mother,  mother !  what  is  it  that  is  too 
true  ?  How  can  anything  be  too  true  ?  " 
asked  Willy,  dancing  across  the  hearth, 
and  almost  upsetting  the  dripping-pan  in 
which  Liddy  had  just  made  the  gravy. 

"You  shall  hear,  by  and  by,  all  it  is 
best  for  you  to  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Par- 
lin.  And  after  dinner  was  served,  and 
Siller  had  gone  home,  she  told  him  that 
Siller's  nephew,  Gideon  Noonin,  had  been 
a  very  naughty  boy  —  worse  than  people 
generally  supposed  him  to  be. 

She  did  not    like    to  repeat    the  whole 


THE  MEDAL.  75 

of  the  sad  story,  —  how  he  had  stolen 
money  from  Mr.  Griggs,  the  toll-gatherer, 
and  how  poor  Mr.  Noonin,  the  father,  had 
paid  it  back  by  selling  some  sheep,  and 
begged  Mr.  Griggs  not  to  send  his  bad 
son  to  jail.  She  did  not  wish  Willy  to 
know  all  this;  but  she  told  him  she  was 
more  than  ever  convinced  that  Gideon  was 
a  wicked  boy. 

"I  don't  know  what  makes  you  little 
children  all  like  him  so  well,"  said  she. 
"  He  may  be  funny  and  good-natured,  but 
he  is  not  a  suitable  playmate  for  anybody, 
especially  for  a  small  boy  like  you.  Re 
member  the  old  proverb,  4  Eggs  should  not 
dance  with  stones.' " 

Willy  looked  deeply  interested  while  his 
mother  was  talking,  and  said  he  would 
never  speak  to  Gideon  except  to  answer 
questions. 


76  LITTLE   GKANDFATHEE. 

"  But  he  does  ask  so  many  questions ! 
I  tell  you,  mamma,  he's  always  taking 
hold  of  you,  and  asking  if  you  don't  want 
to  go  somewhere,  or  do  something.  And 
then  he  makes  you  go  right  along  and  do 
it,  'cause  he's  so  big.  Why  he's  twice  as 
big  as  me,  mother;  but  he  can't  spell 
worth  a  cent." 

A  little  while  after  this,  Willy  ran  off, 
whistling,  to  buy  some  mackerel  and  cod 
fish  at  Daddy  Wiggins's  store.  Before  he 
reached  the  store,  he  heard  a  voice  up  in 
the  air  calling  out  to  him,  — 

"  Hullo,  Billy  Button !  what  you  crying 
about  down  there?" 

Willy  stopped  whistling,  and  looked  up 
to  see  where  the  voice  came  from.  Gideon 
Nooniii  was  sitting  on  the  bough  of  a  great 
maple  tree,  eating  gingerbread.  The  sight 


THE  MEDAL.  77 

of  his  face  filled  Willy  with  strange  feel 
ings.  What  a  naughty,  dreadful  face  it 
was,  with  the  purple  scar  across  the  left 
cheek  !  Willy  had  never  admired  that  scar, 
but  now  he  thought  it  was  horrible.  His 
mother  was  right:  Gid  must  be  a  very  bad 
boy. 

At  the  same  time  Gid's  eyes  danced  in 
the  most  enticing  manner,  and  laughing 
gleefully  he  threw  down  a  great  ragged 
piece  of  gingerbread,  which  Willy  knew, 
from  past  experience,  must  be  remarkably 
nice.  It  was  glazed  on  the  top  as  smooth 
as  satin,  and  had  caraway  seeds  in  it,  and 
another  kind  of  spice  of  an  unknown  name. 
Willy  intended  to  obey  his  mother,  and 
beware  of  Gideon ;  but  who  had  ever  told 
him  to  beware  of  Gideon's  gingerbread  ? 
Gid  might  be  bad,  but  surely  the  ginger- 


78  LITTLE  GKANDFATHER. 

bread  wasn't !  Moreover,  if  nobody  ate  it, 
it  would  get  stepped  on  in  the  road,  and 
wasted.  So  to  save  it  Willy  opened  his 
mouth  and  began  to  nibble.  No  harm  in 
that  —  was  there  ? 

"  Wan't  to  go  swimming,  Billy?" 
Willy   was   walking   along   as  fast   as   he 
could,  but  of  course  he  must  answer  a  civil 
question. 

"  No.  Don't  know  how  to  swim." 
"  Who  s'posed  you  did  —  a  little  fellow 
like  you  ?  "  said  Gid,  in  a  warm-hearted 
tone,  as  he  dropped  nimbly  down  from  the 
tree,  and  alighted  on  his  head.  "  Come 
'long  o'  me,  and  111  show  you  how." 

Willy's  eyes  sparkled,  —  he  didn't  know 
it,  but  they  did,  —  and  he  drew  in  his 
breath  with  a  "Whew!"  Not  that  he 
had  the  least  idea  of  going  with  Gid ;  but 


THE  MEDAL.  79 

the  very  thought  of  it  was  perfectly  be 
witching.  How  often  he  had  teased  his 
two  brothers  to  teach  him  to  swim!  and 
they  wouldn't.  He  was  always  too  young, 
and  they  never  could  stop.  They  thought 
he  was  a  baby;  but  Gid  didn't  think  so. 
Ah,  Gid  knew  better  than  that. 


80  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEK. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    BOY    THAT    MEANT    TO    MIND    HIS 
MOTHEE. 

"  COME  on,  Billy  Button." 

"  O,  Gid  Noonin,  I  can't/' 

"Why  not?     Got  the  cramp?" 

"Look  here,  Gid." 

"  Well,   I'm  looking." 

"Now,   Gid  Noonin!  " 

"  Yes  ;  that's  my  name  I  " 

"  I  shan't  go  a  step  !  " 

"So  I  wouldn't,"  returned  Gid,  coolly. 
"I  only  asked  you  for  fun." 

"  O — h !  H'm  !  Are  you  going  to  swim 
in  the  brook  or  the  river?" 

"  Brook,  you  goosie.      Prime  place  down 


THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT   TO  MIND.         81 

there  by  the   old  willow  tree.      Don't  yon 
wish  I'd  let  you  go  ?  " 

"No;    for  my  mother  says —  " 

"O,  does  she,  though?" 

"My  mother  says  —  " 

"  Lor,  now,  Billy  Button  !  " 

"Hush,  Gid;  my  mother  says  —  " 

"A  pretty   talking   woman  your   mother 
is !  "  struck  in   Gid,  squinting  his  eyes. 

What  a  witty  creature  Gid  was !     Willy 
could  hardly  keep  from  laughing. 

"Can't  you  let  me   speak,  Gid  Noonin? 
My  mother  says  she  won't — " 

"Says  she  wont?    That's  real  wicked  kind 
of  talk !     I'm  ashamed  of  your  mother  !  " 

Willy  laughed.     Gid  did  have  such  a  way 
of  making  up  faces ! 

"  Come  on,    you  little  girl-baby  !      Guess 
I  will  take  you,  if  you  won't  cry." 
6 


82  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

Willy  laughed  again.  It  was  not  at  all 
painful,  but  extremely  funny,  to  hear  Gid 
call  names,  for  he  never  did  it  in  a  provok 
ing  way  at  all. 

"  Come  along,  you  little  tip  end  of  a 
top  o'  my  thumb." 

"  No,   sir.    Shan't  go  a  step  ! " 

Willy  was  a  boy  that  meant  to  mind  his 
mother. 

"  But  I  s'pose  you'll  have  to  go  if  I 
take  you." 

Willy  caught  himself  by  the  left  ear. 
He  felt  the  need  of  holding  on  by  some 
thing  ;  still  he  was  somehow  afraid  he 
should  have  to  go  in  spite  of  his  ears. 
Was  there  ever  such  a  boy  as  Gid  for 
teasing  ? 

"  Why,  Gid  Noonin,  I  told  you  my  mother 
said  —  " 


THE  BOY  THAT   MEANT  TO  MIND.         83 

"  No,  you  didn't !  You  haven't  told  me 
a  thing !  You  stutter  so  I  can't  under 
stand  a  word." 

At  -  the  idea  of  his  stuttering,  Willy 
laughed  outright ;  and  during  that  moment 
of  weakness  was  picked  up  and  set  astride 
of  Gid's  shoulders. 

"You  put  me  down  !  My  mother  says 
I  shan't  play  with  you ;  so  there  !  "  cried 
"Willy,  struggling  manfully,  yet  a  little 
pleased,  I  must  confess,  to  think  he  couldn't 
possibly  help  himself. 

"  Ride  away,  ride  away.  Billy  shall 
ride,"  sang  Gid,  bouncing  his  burden  up 
and  down. 

Willy  felt  like  a  dry  leaf  in  an  eddy, 
which  is  whirled  round  and  round,  yet  is 
all  the  while  making  faster  and  faster  for 
the  hungry  dimple  in  the  middle,  where 
there  is  no  getting  out  again. 


84  LITTLE   GKANDFATHEE. 

"  O,  dear,  Gid's  such  a  great  big  boy, 
and  I'm  only  just  eight,"  thought  -he,  jolt 
ing  up  and  down  like  a  bag  of  meal  on 
horseback.  Well,  it  would  be  good  fun, 
after  all,  to  go  in  swimming,  —  splendid 
fun,  when  there  was  somebody  to  hold  you 
up,  and  keep  you  from  drowning.  If  you 
could  forget  that  your  mother  had  told  you 
not  to  play  with  Gid  Noonin ! 

"  If  you  get  the  string  of  that  medal 
wet  you'll  catch  it,"  said  Gid.  "  Better 
take  it  off  and  put  it  in  your  pocket." 

"  Just  a-going  to,"  said  Willy.  "  D'you 
think  I's  a  fool?" 

Well,  wasn't  it  nice  !  The  water  feel' 
ing  so  ticklish  all  over  you,  and  — 

Why,  no,  it  wasn't  nice  at  all ;  it  was 
just  frightful!  After  two  or  three  dives, 
Gid  had  snapped  his  fingers  in  his  face, 


THE  BOY  THAT   MEANT   TO  MIND.         85 

and  gone  off  and  left  him.  Willy  couldn't 
swim  any  more  than  a  fish-hook.  Where 
was  Gid  ? 

"  The  water's  up  to  my  chin.  Come, 
Gid,  quick!" 

What  would  Seth  and  Stephen  say  if 
they  knew  how  he  was  abused  ?  No  —  his 
mother  ?  No  —  Love,  and  Caleb,  and  Lid- 
dy?  How  they  would  feel !  There  wasn't 
any  bottom  to  this  brook,  or  if  there  ever 
had  been  it  had  dropped  out. 

"  O,   Gid,  I  can't  stand  up." 

Gid  was  in  plain  sight  now,  on  the  bank, 
pretending  to  skip  stones.  Gid  was  like 
a  Chinese  juggler ;  he  could  make  believe 
do  one  thing,  while  he  was  really  -doing 
another. 

"  Quick  !  Quick  !  Quick!  I  shall  dro— 
ow — OWJQ.  !  " 


86  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

Gid  took  his  own  time ;  but  as  he  swam 
slowly  back  to  his  trembling  little  play 
mate,  he  was  "  rolling  a  sweet  morsel  undt" 
his  tongue,"  which  tasted  very  much  like 
a  silver  medal  —  with  the  string  taken  out. 

"  What  d'you  go  off  for?  "  gasped  Willy. 

"For  fun,  you  outrageous  little  ninny!" 
mumbled  Gid,  tickling  Willy  under  the 
arms.  "  I'm  going  to  get  you  out,  now, 
and  dress  you,  and  send  you  home  to  your 
mother." 

"  Dress  me,  I  guess  !  " 

"  Well,  you'd  better  scamper  !  "  said  Gid, 
hurriedly,  as  they  got  into  their  clothes. 
"  Your  mother'll  have  a  fit  about  you." 

"My  mother?  No,  she  won't.  She  don't 
spect  the  codfish  and  mackerel  till  most 
supper-time.  She  said  I  might  play,  but 
she  wasn't  willing  I  should  play  with  you, 


THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT  TO  MIND.         87 

though,  Gid  Noonin,"  said  little  Willy, 
squeezing  the  water  out  of  his  hair. 

"But  you  did,  you  little  scamp!  Now 
run  along  home.  I  can't  stop  to  talk.  Got 
to  saw  wood." 

"  Then  what  made  you  creep  so  awful 
slow  when  I  called  to  you  ?  "  asked  Willy, 
indignantly. 

"  O,  because  I've  got  such  a  sore  throat," 
wheezed  Gideon.  "Off  with  you!  Scam 
per  !  " 

Upon  that  Gid  took  to  his  heels,  and  left 
Master  Willy  staring  at  him,  and  wondering 
what  a  sore  throat  had  to  do  with  swim 
ming,  and  what  made  Gid  in  such  a  hurry 
all  in  a  minute. 

"He's  a  queer  fellow — Gid  is!  Can't 
spell  worth  a  cent.  Should  think  he'd  be 
ashamed  to  see  a  little  boy  like  me  wear 


88  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEB. 

the  medal.  Glad  I  didn't  wet  it,  for  the 
color  would  have  washed  out  of  the  string." 

With  that  Willy  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Out  here  and  show  yourself,  sir," 

This  to  the  medal. 

"What!     Why,   what's  this?" 

He   felt  in  the   other  pocket. 

"Why!     Why!" 

He  drew  out  junks  of  blue  clay,  wads 
of  twine,  a  piece  of  chalk,  a  fish-hook,  and 
various  other  articles  more  or  less  wound 
up  in  a  wad;  but  no  medal. 

"  Guess  there's  a  hole  in  my  pocket,  and 
the  medal  fell  through." 

And  without  stopping  to  examine  the 
pocket,  he  ran  back  all  the  way  to  the 
brook.  Nowhere  to  be  found.  Not  in  the 
grass  on  either  side  of  the  road ;  not  on  the 
bank. 


THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT   TO   MIND.         89 

Then  he  remembered  to  look  at  his  pock 
ets;  turned  them  all  three  inside  out  four 
times.  No  hole  there. 

"Well,  I  never!  —  Look  here,  you  Oze 
Wiggins;  did  you  pick  up  anything  in  the 
grass?" 

"  Noffin  'but  a  toadstool,"  replied  little 
Ozem,  innocently;  and  Willy  wondered  if 
he  wasn't  a  half-fool  to  make  such  an  an 
swer  as  that. 

"  Where  can  that  medal  be  ?  "  said  he, 
with  a  dry  sob. 

He  did  not  once  suspect  that  Gideon 
Noonin  had  taken  it. 

"I'll  go  home  and  tell  my  mother.  O, 
clear  !  O,  dear  !  " 

He  was  still  at  the  tender  age  when  lit 
tle  boys  believe  their  mammas  can  help  them 
out  of  any  kind  of  trouble.  True,  he  had 


90  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

been  naughty  and  disobedient ;  but  if  he 
said  he  was  sorry,  wouldn't  her  arms  open 
to  take  him  in  ?  He  was  sorry  now,  — - 
no  doubt  of  that,  —  and  was  running  home 
with  all  speed,  when  the  sight  of  his  father 
in  the  distance  reminded  him  of  his  errand, 
and  he  rushed  back  to  the  store  for  the 
codfish  and  mackerel. 

"What  makes  your  hair  so  wet,  bubby?" 
asked  Daddy  Wiggins,  rolling  the  fish  in 
brown  paper.  "Haven't  been  in  swimming 
— -have  you  ?  " 

"  Don'  know,"  stammered  Willy,  darting 
out  of  the  store. 

If  his  hair  was  wet  it  wouldn't  do  to 
go  home  till  it  was  dry ;  for  his  father 
would  find  out  that  he  had  been  in  the 
brook,  and  the  next  thing  in  order  would 
be  a  whipping.  It  was  hard  enough  to  lose 


THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT   TO  MIND.         91 

the  medal ;  Willy  thought  a  whipping  would 
be  more  than  he  could  bear,  for  it  was 
always  given  with  a  horsewhip  out  in  the 
barn ;  and  the  unlucky  boy  could  never  help 
envying  the  cows,  as  they  looked  on,  chew 
ing  their  cuds  with  such  an  air  of  content 
and  unconcern.  Cows  never  were  punished, 
nor  sheep  either.  Good  times  they  had  — 
that's  a  fact.  Sheep  wouldn't  mind  a  real 
heavy  horse-whipping,  they  were  done  up 
so  in  wool;  but  when  a  little  boy  had  to 
take  off  his  jacket,  why,  there  wasn't  much 
over  his  skin  to  keep  off  the  smart.  Ugh ! 
how  it  did  hurt ! 

There  was  another  advantage  in  being  a 
sheep,  or  a  cow,  or  a  hen  ;  animals  of  that 
sort  never  lost  anything  —  didn't  have  med 
als  to  lose. 

"And  this  wasn't  mine,"  groaned  Willy. 


92  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

u  What '11  the  mistress  do  to  me  ?  Don' 
know;  blister  both  hands,  I  s'pose  !  " 

Willy  had  intended  to  play  ball  with 
the  little  boys,  but  it  was  not  to  be  thought 
of  now.  Putting  his  fish  behind  a  tree,  he 
ran  to  the  brook  again  and  poked  with  a 
stick  as  far  as  he  could  reach ;  then  waded 
in  up  to  his  knees,  for  the  medal  might 
have  rolled  out  of  his  pocket. 

"No,  it  couldn't;  for  my  breeches  were 
tucked  in  up  there  between  two  rocks." 

Suddenly  he  recollected  Gideon's  going 
back  to  the  bank. 

"  That  wicked,  mean  boy  !  "  almost 
screamed  Willy.  "  He  stole  my  medal ! 
I'll  go  right  off  and  tell  mother!" 

Mrs.  Parlin  had  on  her  afternoon  cap, 
and  was  sitting  alone  in  the  well-sanded 
"  fore-roorn,"  doing  the  mending,  and  sing 
ing,— 


THE  BOY  THAT  MEANT  TO  MIND.         93 

"  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night, 
All  seated  on  the  ground,"  — 

when  Willy,  with  his  pantaloons  tucked 
up  to  his  knees,  and  his  head  dripping 
with  water,  rushed  wildly  into  the  room. 

"  My  medal's  gone  !  Gid  Noonin  stole  it !  " 

"My  son!     What   do  you  mean?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  Gid  Noonin  stole  it  ! 
Made  me  go  in  swimming,  and  then  he 
stole  it !  " 

"  Gideon  Noonin?  "  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  with 
a  meaning  glance.  "  That  boy?  Made  you 
go  swimming,  my  son  ?  ' ' 

Willy  hung  his  head. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  !  Marched  me  off  'down  to 
the  brook  pickaback,  —  he  did!" 

"  Poor,  little  baby ! "  said  Mrs.  Parlin, 
in  the  soft,  pitiful  tone  she  would  have 
used  to  an  infant.  "  Poor  little  baby  !  " 


94  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"Willy's  head  sank  lower  yet,  and  the 
blush  of  shame  crept  into  his  cheeks. 

"Why,  mother,  he's  as  strong's  a  moose; 
he  could  most  lift  you!" 

" '  My  son,  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent 
thou  not.'  " 

"Well,  but  I  —  " 

"  You  consented  in  your  heart,  Willy,  or 
Gideon  could  not  have  made  you  go  swim 
ming." 

What  a  very  bright  woman!  Willy  was 
amazed.  How  could  she  guess  that  while 
riding  on  Gid's  back  he  had  been  a  little 
glad  to  think  he  could  not  help  it  ?  He  had 
hardly  known  himself  that  he  was  glad,  it 
was  such  a  wee  speck  of  a  feeling,  and  so 
covered  up  with  other  feelings. 

"But  I  tried  not  to  go,  mother.  I  tell 
you  I  squirmed  awf'ly  !  " 


THE  BOY  THAT   MEANT   TO  MIND.         95 

"  Well,  you  didn't  try  hard  enough  in 
the  first  place,  Willy.  Gome  here,  and  sit 
in  my  lap,  and  let  us  talk  it  over.  —  Do 
you  know,  my  son,  if  you  had  tried  hard 
enough,  the  Lord  would  have  helped  you?" 

Willy  raised  his  eyes  wonderingly.  Had 
God  been  looking  on  all  the  while,  just 
ready  to  be  spoken  to  ?  He  had  not 
thought  of  that. 

"  O,  mamma,"  said  he  solemnly,  "I  will 
mind,  next  time,  see  'f  I  don't.  But  there's 
that  medal;  why,  what'll  I  do?" 

"If  Gideon  will  not  return  it,  you  must 
pay  Miss  Judkins  a  quarter  of  a  dollar." 

"With  a  hole  in,"  sighed  Willy.  "Why, 
I've  only  got  two  cents  in  this  world." 

"O,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  hopefully, 
"perhaps  you  can  hire  out  to  papa,  and 
earn  the  rest." 


96  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"  O,  if  he'll  only  let  me  !  Won't  you 
please"  ask  him,  mamma?"  cried  Willy, 
filled  with  a  new  hope.  "  Ask  him,  and 
get  Love  to  ask  him,  too.  I  shouldn't  dare 
do  it,  you  know." 


THE  BOY  THAT  CHEATED.  97 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THE  BOY  THAT   CHEATED. 

THE  next  Monday  Seth  happened  to  go 
into  the  shed-chamber  for  a  piece  of  leather 
to  mend  an  old  harness,  and  met  Willy 
coming  down  the  stairs  with  a  basket  full 
of  old  iron. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  Willy.  What  have  you 
got  there?5' 

Willy  would  have  obeyed  at  once,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  that  lordly  tone  and  air 
of  Seth's,  which  always  made  him  feel 
contrary. 

"Stop,   I  say!"  repeated  Seth.     "What 
have  you  got  there  ?  " 
7 


98  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"Old  iron." 

"  Old  iron  ?  Did  mother  send  you  after 
it?  " 

"  No." 

"Well,  then,  go  carry  it  right  back." 

Willy   did  not   stir. 

"Old  iron  is  worth  money,  little  boy." 

"Yes;  I  know  that." 

"And  what  business  have  you  with  it?" 

"  Going  to  sell  it." 

"  What  ?  Without  asking  mother,  you 
naughty  boy  ?  " 

Willy  set  the  heavy  basket  on  the  next 
lower  stair. 

"So  you  went  up  stairs  for  that  iron 
without  leave  ?  What  a  wicked  boy  !  " 

Willy  set  the  basket  on  another  stair. 

"  Bellows'  nose,  old  tea-kettle,  rusty 
nails,"  said  Seth,  examining  the  basket. 


THE   BOY   THAT   CHEATED.  99 

u  Willy  Parlin,  do  you  know  this  is 
stealing." 

"Tisn't,  neither!" 

"But  I  tell  you  it  is!  Just  as  much 
stealing  as  if  you  took  money  out  of 
father's  wallet." 

"I  don't  steal,"  said  Willy,  -setting  the 
basket  on  another  stair. 

Seth   was   growing   exasperated. 

"  If  you  don't  intend  to  mind  me,  Willy 
Parlin,  and  carry  back  that  iron,  I  shall 
have  to  go  and  tell  father." 

"  Then  you'll  be  a  tell-tale,   Mr.  Seth." 

"  Do  you  think  I'll  have  my  little  broth 
er  grow  up  a  thief? " 

"  I  wasn't  a  thief ;  but  you're  a  tell-tale. 
You  said,  yesterday,  little  boys  mustn't  tat 
tle,  and  I  guess  big  boys  mustn't  tattle, 
neither,"  chuckled  the  aggravating  Willy, 
dragging  his  basket  of  iron  into  the  kitchen. 


100  LITTLE  GEANDFATHEB. 

"  Mother,"  said  Setli,  as  Mrs.  Parlin 
passed  through  the  shed  with  a  pan  of 
sour  milk,  "  there's  got  to  be  something 
done  with  Willy ;  he  has  taken  to  stealing." 

Mrs.  Parlin  set  the  pan  upon  a  bench, 
and  sank  down  on  the  meat-block,  too  weak 
to  stand. 

"  I  caught  him  just  now,  mother,  lug 
ging  off  a  great  basket  full  of  old  iron ; 
and  if  you  don't  go  right  in  and  stop  him, 
he'll  take  it  up  to  the  store  to  sell." 

"  Is  that  all?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Parlin, 
drawing  a  deep  breath.  "  Why,  how  you 
frightened  me !  His  father  gave  him  leave 
to  collect  what  old  iron  he  could  find, 
and  sell  it  to  make  up  for  the  medal  he 
lost  the  other  day." 

"  Well  there,  mother,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it 
—  that's  a  fact!  But  why  didn't  the  little 


THE  BOY  THAT   C?tEA.T±&.'  ' 

rogue  tell  me?  I  declare,  tie  deserves  a 
good  whipping  for  imposing  upon  me  so." 

"  He  ought  to  have  told  you ;  but  per 
haps  you  spoke  harshly  to  him,  my  son. 
You  know  Willy  can't  bear  that." 

"  I  don't  think  I  was  very  harsh,  mother. 
You  wouldn't  have  me  see  the  child  doing 
wrong,  and  not  correct  him — would  you?" 

"His  father  and  I  are  the  ones  to  cor 
rect  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Paiiin.  "Willy 
has  too  many  masters  and  mistresses.  Next 
time  you  see  him  doing  what  you  think  is 
wrong,  let  me  know  it,  but  don't  scold 
him!" 

Mrs.  Paiiin  had  said  this  before,  but 
it  was  something  Seth  never  could  re 
member. 

Willy  sold  the  iron,  returned  a  bright 
new  quarter  to  Miss  Judkins,  and  felt  happy 


•102  ^EIT 


GRANDFATHER. 

again,  especially  as  there  were  ten  cents 
left,  which  his  father  kindly  allowed  him 
to  keep. 

Gideon  Noonin  never  confessed  his  crime, 
and  after  this  Willy  was  very  careful  to 
keep  away  from  him.  But  there  was  an 
other  boy,  nearer  his  own  age,  who  had 
quite  as  bad  an  influence  over  him  —  Fred 
Chase.  He  afterwards  became  a  worthless 
young  man,  and  made  his  mother  so 
wretched  that  Siller  Noonin  said,  "  Poor 
Mrs.  Chase,  she  has  everything  heart  can 
wish,  except  a  bottle  to  put  her  tears  in." 

Fred  was  a  well-mannered,  pretty  little 
fellow,  and  no  one  thought  ill  of  him, 
because  he  Avas  so  sly  with  his  mischief. 
He  did  harm  to  Willy  by  making  him 
think  he  had  a  very  hard  time.  His  work 
was  to  bring  in  a  bushel  basket  of  chips 


THE  BOY  THAT   CHEATED.  103 

every  morning,  and  fill  the  "  fore-room " 
wood-box.  Of  course  the  "  back-log  "  and 
"  back-stick,"  and  " fore-stick "  were  all  too 
heavy  for  his  little  arms,  and  Caleb  attend 
ed  to  those.  Freddy  had  nothing  what 
ever  to  do,  and  pretended  to  pity  Willy. 

"They  'pose  upon  you,"  said  he.  "I 
never 'd  stand  it." 

Until  Freddy  told  him  he  was  imposed 
upon,  Willy  had  never  suspected  it ;  but, 
after  that,  he  saw  he  had  nearly  all  the 
work  to  do,  and  that  Seth  and  Stephen 
did  not  help  as  much  as  they  might.  The 
more  he  reflected  upon  the  subject,  the 
more  unhappy  he  grew,  and  the  more  he 
lingered  over  his  wood  and  chips. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  little  boy 
and  the  two  pails  of  water?"  said  his 
mother. 


104  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"  O,  what  about  him,  mamma  ?  Do  tell 
me." 

"  Why,  the  boy  was  told  to  draw  two 
pails  of  water  from  the  well;  but  instead 
of  drawing  them  he  sat  down  and  dreaded 
it,  till  he  pined  away,  and  pined  away, 
and  finally  died." 

Willy  ran  out  with  his  basket,  and  never 
asked  again  to  hear  the  story  of  the  boy 
and  the  two  pails.  But  the  wood-pile 
seemed  to  be  lying  on  top  of  his  heart, 
crushing  him,  till  he  was  relieved  by  a 
bright  idea. 

Why  not  stand  some  sticks  upright  in 
the  bottom  of  the  box,  and  then  lay  the 
rest  of  the  wood  on  top  of  them?  It 
would  look  just  the  same  as  usual ;  but 
what  a  help ! 

The  box  was  in  the  entry,  and  the  "  fore- 


THE  BOY  THAT   CHEATED.  105 

room"  door  shut;  he  could  cheat  as  well 
as  not. 

'•Now  I'll  have  lots  of  time  to  play!" 

"  What,  you  here  yet,  Willy  ? "  said 
his  mother,  opening  the  door.  She  thought 
he  had  been  an  unusually  long  while  filling 
the  box ;  and  so  he  had.  It  was  new  busi 
ness,  doing  it  in  this  way,  and  it  took 
time. 

"  I  supposed  you  had  gone,  darling,  for 
I  didn't  hear  you  whistle." 

Willy  whistled  faintly,  as  he  laid  on  the 
last  stick.  How  lucky  his  mother  hadn't 
opened  the  door  sooner ! 

"  That's  a  nice  big  box  full,  my  son.  You 
please  your  mother  this  morning.  Come 
here  and  kiss  me." 

Willy  went,  and  then  Mrs.  Parlin,  who 
was  a  fine  singer,  and  knew  a  great  many 
ballads,  sang,  smiling,  — 


106  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"  Ho !   why  dost  thou   shiver  and  shake, 

Gaffer  Gray? 
And  why  doth  thy  nose  look  so  blue?" 

She  often  sang  that  when  he  came  into 
the  house  cold ,  and  then  he  would  sing 
in  reply,  with  a  voice  almost  as  sweet  as 
her  own,  — 

"'Tis  the  weather  that's  cold, 

'Tis  I'm  grown  very  old, 
And  my  doublet  is  not  very  new, 
Well-a-day !  " 

But  he  was  not  in  a  musical  mood  this 
morning :  he  felt  in  a  hurry  to  be  off ; 
and  giving  his  mother  a  hasty  kiss,  he 
bounded  away  without  his  shingle-covered 
spelling-book,  and  had  to  come  back  after  it. 

Foolish  Willy !  Did  he  think  his  mam 
ma  would  not  find  out  the  deep-laid  plot, 
which  had  cost  him  so  much  labor?  Chil 
dren  have  no  idea  how  bright  their  par- 


THE  BOY  THAT   CHEATED.  107 

ents  are  !  It  was  a  very  cold  day  in 
December,  and  as  Mrs.  Parlin  kept  up  a 
roaring  fire,  she  came  before  noon  to  the 
upright  sticks  standing  in  the  wood-box, 
as  straight  as  soldiers  on  a  march.  She 
sighed  a  little,  and  smiled  a  little,  but  said 
not  a  word,  for  she  was  a  wise  woman, 
was  Mrs.  Parlin. 

"Well,  Willy  boy,"  said  she,  when  he 
came  home  from  school,  and  had  had  his 
supper  of  brown  bread,  baked  apples,  and 
milk,  "  come,  let  us  have  a  sing." 

There  was  nothing  Willy  and  his  mother 
enjoyed  better  than  a  u  sing,"  she  holding 
him  in  her  lap  and  rocking  him  the  while. 
He  put  his  whole  soul  into  the  music, 
miscalling  the  Scotch  words  sometimes  so 
charmingly  that  it  was  a  real  delight  to 
hear  him.  People  often  stopped  at  the 


108  LITTLE  GKAISTDFATHER. 

threshold,  I  am  told,  or  at  the  open  win 
dow  in  summer,  to  listen  to  the  clear  child 
ish  voice  in  such  ballads  as,  — 

"  Fy !   let  us  a'  to   the   wedding, 

For  they  will  be  lilting  there ; 
For  Jock's  to  be  married  to  Maggie, 
The  lass  wi'  the  gowden  hair." 

To-night  it  was  "  Colin's  Come  to  Town ; " 
and  Willy's  tones  rang  sweet  and  high,  — 

"  His  very  step  has  music  in't, 
As  he  comes  up  the  stair." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  beat  of  that 
little  chap  for  singing  ? "  said  Caleb,  in 
the  bar-room,  to  Dr.  Hilton  and  Mr.  Griggs. 

Since  that  sad  affair  of  the  ox-money 
Caleb  had  loved  Willy  better  than  ever, 
though  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  why ;  per 
haps  because  the  child  had  been  so  glad 
to  see  him  come  back  again. 


THE  BOY   THAT   CHEATED.  109 

"Bless  him!"  said  Love,  bringing  the 
brass  warming-pan  into  the  "  fore-room," 
to  fill  it  with  coals  at  the  fireplace.  "Why, 
mother,  I  never  hear  the  name  4  Willy,' 
but  it  makes  me  think  of  music.  It  sounds 
as  sweet  as  if  you  said  *  nightingale.' ' 

Mrs.  Parlin  answered  by  folding  the  sing 
ing-bird  closer  to  her  heart. 

"  And  do  you  know  what  the  word 
*  Mother '  makes  me  think  of  ?  —  Of  a  great 
large  woman,  always  just  ready  to  hug 
somebody." 

Mrs.  Parlin  laughed. 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  does.  And  it  doesn't 
seem  as  if  a  small  woman  is  really  fit  to 
be  called  mother.  There's  Dorcas  Lyman: 
when  she  says  *  Mother'  to  that  little  wo 
man,  it  sounds  so  queer  to  me ;  for  Mrs. 
Lyman  isn't  big  enough,  you  know." 


110  LITTLE  GKANDFATHER. 

"  Course  she  isn't;  not  half  big  enough," 
said  Willy.  "  I  could  'most  lift  her  with 
my  little  finger.  But,  then,  that  baby  — 
she's  got  a  real  nice  baby;  wish  she'd  give 
Patty  to  me." 

Love  smiled,  and  walked  off,  with  her 
long-handled  warming-pan,  to  heat  a  trav 
eller's  bed  in  the  icy  north  chamber. 

Willy's  heart  was  full  of  tenderness  for 
his  mother,  whom  he  kept  kissing  fondly. 
Now  was  a  good  time  to  speak  of  the  up 
right,  deceitful  sticks  of  wood,  perhaps  ; 
but  Mrs.  Parlin  did  not  do  it.  She  began 
the  Evening  Hymn,  and  Willy  sang  with 
her : — 

"  Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night, 
For  all  the  blessings  of  the  light; 
Keep  me,  O  keep  me,  King  of  kings, 
Beneath  thine  own  almighty  wings. 


THE  BOY   THAT   CHEATED.  Ill 

"Forgive  me,  Lord,  for  thy  dear  Son, 
The  ills  which  I  this  day  have  done, 
That  with  the  world,  myself,  and  Thee, 
I,  ere  I  sleep,  at  peace  may  be." 

"Now,  Willy,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin,  pausing, 
"let  us  think  a  while,  and  try  to  remem 
ber  what  we  have  done  to-day  that  is 
wrong.  You  think,  and  I  will  think,  too." 

He  looked  up,  and  she  knew  by  the 
cloud  in  his  eyes  that  his  conscience  was 
troubled. 

"  Well,  I'll  think.  But  you  haven't  done 
anything  wrong,  mamma?  " 

"  O,  yes,  dear ;  many  things." 

"  Well,  so've  I,  too.  Want  me  to  tell 
what?" 

"  Not  unless  you  choose,  my  child.  Only 
be  sure  you  tell  God." 

They  were  silent  a  few  moments. 


112  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"  There,  that's  the  last  time  I'll  ever 
stand  the  sticks  up  on  end  in  the  wood- 
box,"  burst  forth  Willy. 

"  I  thought  so,'9  said  his  mother,  kissing 
him. 

So  she  had  known  about  it  all  the  while ! 

But  not  another  word  did  she  say ;  and 
they  went  on  with  the  hymn :  — 

"  Teach  me  to  live,  that  I  may  dread 
The  grave  as  little  as  my  bed. 
Teach  me  to  die,  that  so  I  may 
Triumphing  rise  at  the  last  day." 


THE  NEVER-GIVE-UPS.  113 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


"THE  NEVER-GIVE-UPS." 


"Now  Christmas  is  come, 
Let  us  beat  up  the  drum, 

And  call  our  neighbors  together  j 
And  when  they  appear, 
Let  us  make  them  good  cheer, 

As  will  keep  out  the  wind  and  the  weather." 

THIS  is  what  the  old  song  says;  but  it 
is  Dot  the  way  the  people  of  the  new  colo 
nies  celebrated  Christmas.  Indeed,  they 
thought  it  wrong  to  observe  it  at  all,  — 
because  their  forefathers  had  come  away  from 
England  almost  on  purpose  to  get  rid  of  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  which  hindered  their 
worship  in  the  church  over  there. 
8 


114  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

The  Parlins,  however,  saw  no  harm  in 
celebrating  the  day  of  our  Saviour's  birth, 
and  Mrs.  Parlin,  who  was  an  Episcopalian, 
always  instructed  Love  and  the  boys  to 
trim  the  house  with  evergreens,  and  put 
cedar  crosses  in  the  windows. 

Willy  was  glad  whenever  his  grandfather 
Cheever  happened  to  be  visiting  them  at 
"  Christmas-tide,"  for  then  he  was  sure  of 
a  present.  Mr.  Cheever  was  an  English 
man  of  the  old  school,  and  prayed  for 
King  George.  He  wore  what  were  called 
"small  clothes,"  —  that  is,  short  breeches, 
which  came  only  to  the  knee,  and  were 
fastened  there  with  a  buckle,  —  silk  stock 
ings,  and  a  fine  ruffled  shirt.  His  hair  was 
braided  into  a  long  queue  behind,  which 
served  Willy  for  a  pair  of  reins,  when 
he  went  riding  on  the  dear  old  gentleman's 
back. 


THE  NEVER-GIYE-UPS.  115 

I  am  not  sure  that  Mr.  Parlin  was  al 
ways  glad  to  see  grandpa  Cheever,  for 
they  differed  entirely  in  politics,  and  that 
was  a  worse  thing  then  than  it  is  now,  if 
you  can  believe  it.  Mr.  Parlin  loved  George 
Washington,  and  grandpa  said  he  was  "  only 
an  upstart."  Grandpa  loved  King  George, 
and  Mr.  Parlin  said  he  was  "  only  a  crazy 
man." 

But  Willy  adored  his  grandfather,  espe 
cially  at  holiday  times ;  for  besides  presents, 
they  were  sure  to  have  games  in  the  big 
dining-room,  such  as  blindfold,  or  "  Wood 
man  blind,"  bob-apple,  and  snap-dragon. 

Then  they  always  had  a  log  brought  in 
with  great  ceremony,  called  the  Yule  log, 
the  largest  one  that  could  be  found  in, the 
shed ;  and  when  Seth  and  Stephen  came 
staggering  in  with  it,  grandpa  Cheever, 


116  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

and   Mrs.  Parlin,  and  Love,   and  Willy  all 
struck  up, — 

"  Come,  bring  with  a  noise, 

My  merry,   merry  boys, 
The  Christmas  log  to  the  firing, 

While  my  good  dame,   she 

Bids  ye  all  be  free, 
And  drink  to  your  hearts'  desiring." 

The  "good  dame,"  I  suppose,  was  Mrs. 
Parlin;  and  she  gave  them  to  drink,  it  is 
true,  but  nothing  stronger  than  metheglin, 
or  egg  nog,  or  flip.  It  seems  to  me  I  can 
almost  see  her  standing  by  the  table,  pour 
ing  it  out  with  a  gracious  smile.  She  was 
a  handsome,  queenly-looking  woman,  they 
say,  though  rather  too  large  round  the 
waist  you  might  think. 

Her  father  was  a  famous  singer,  as  well 
as  herself;  and  for  my  part  I  should  have 
enjoyed  hearing  some  of  their  old  songs, 


THE   NEVEB-GIVE-UPS.  117 

while    the  wind  went    whistling  round   the 
house :  — 

"  Without  the  door  let  Sorrow  lie, 
And  if  for  cold   it  hap  to  die, 
We'll  bury  it  in  a  Christmas  pie, 
And  evermore  be  merry." 

Or  this  one  :  — 

"  Rejoice,   our  Saviour,  he  was  born 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning." 

But  these  were  family  affairs,  these  Christ 
mas  meetings.  No  one  else  in  Perseverance 
had  anything  to  do  with  them,  not  even 
Caleb  or  Lydia. 

But  the  little  boys  in  those  days  did  not 
live  without  amusements,  you  may  be  sure. 
Perhaps  their  choicest  and  most  bewitching 
sport  was  training.  There  had  been  one 
great  war,  —  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  — 


118  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

and  as  people  were  looking  for  another, — 
which  actually  came  in  1812,  —  it  was 
thought  safe  for  men  to  be  drilled  in  the 
practice  of  marching  and  carrying  fire-arms. 

In  Perseverance,  and  many  other  towns, 
companies  were  formed,  such  as  the  Light 
Infantry,  or  "  String  Bean  Company,"  the 
Artillery,  and  the  "  Troop."  These  met 
pretty  often,  and  marched  about  the  streets 
to  the  sound  of  martial  music. 

Of  course  the  little  boys  could  not  see 
and  hear  of  all  this  without  a  swelling  of 
the  heart  and  a  prancing  of  the  feet ;  for 
they  were  rather  different  from  boys  of 
these  days !  Hard  indeed,  thought  they,  if 
they  couldn't  form  a  company  too !  As  for 
music,  what  was  to  hinder  them  from 
pounding  it  out  of  tin  pans  and  pewter 
porringers?  There  is  music  in  everything, 


THE  NEVEIt-GIVE-UPS.  119 

if  you  can  only  get  it  out.  Chickens'  wind 
pipes,  when  well  dried,  are  very  melodious, 
and  so  are  whistles  made  of  willow ;  and 
if  you  are  fond  of  variety,  there  are  always 
bones  to  be  had,  and  dinner-horns,  and 
jews-harps. 

Full  of  zeal  for  their  country,  the  little 
boys  on  both  sides  of  the  river  met  to 
gether  and  formed  quite  a  large  company. 
They  had  two  trials  to  begin  with ;  firstly, 
they  could  not  think  of  a  name  fine  enough 
for  themselves ;  and  secondly,  they  could 
not  get  any  sort  of  uniform  to  wear.  Their 
mothers  could  not  see  the  necessity  of  their 
having  new  suits  just  to  play  in;  and  it 
seemed  for  some  time  as  if  the  little  pa 
triots  would  have  to  march  forever  in  their 
old  every-day  clothes. 

"  But  they'll  give  us  some  new  ones  by 


120  LITTLE  GEAKDFATHEE. 

and  by,  boys,"  said  Willy.  "  My  mother 
laughed  last  night,  when  I  asked  again, 
and  that's  a  certain  sure  sign." 

"  O,  I  thought  we'd  given  that  up," 
said  Fred  Chase. 

"Look  here,  boys,"  exclaimed  Willy; 
"  I've  thought  of  a  name ;  it's  the  '  Never- 
Give-Ups.'  All  in  favor  say  '  Ay ?  !  " 

"Ay!  ay!"  piped  all  the  lads;  and  it 
was  a  vote.  Perhaps  it  was  a  year  before 
the  Never-Give-Ups  got  their  uniforms ;  but 
at  last  their  mammas  saw  the  subject  in  a 
proper  light,  and  stopped  their  work  long 
enough  to  dye  some  homespun  suits  dark 
blue,  and  trim  them  gorgeously  with  red. 

Willy's  regimentals  were  not  home-made  ; 
they  were  cut  down  from  his  father's  old 
ones ;  and  he  might  have  been  too  well 
pleased  with  them,  only  Fred  Chase's  were 


THE  NEVEK-GIYE-UPS.  121 

better  yet,  being  new,  with  the  first  gloss 
on,  just  as  they  had  come  from  a  store  in 
the  city  of  Boston. 

Fred  was  captain  of  the  company.  The 
boys  had  felt  obliged  in  the  very  beginning 
to  have  it  so,  on  account  of  a  beautiful  in 
strument,  given  him  by  his  father,  called 
a  flageolet.  True,  Fred  could  not  play  on 
it  at  all,  and  had  to  give  it  up  to  Willy ; 
but  it  belonged  to  him  all  the  same. 

"  Something's  the  matter  with  my  lungs," 
said  Fred,  coughing  ;  "  and  that's  why  those 
little  holes  plague  me  so;  it's  too  hard 
work  to  blow  'em." 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  with, 
w^ise  nods  and  smiles.  They  did  not  like 
Fred  very  well ;  but  he  was  always  push 
ing  himself  forward :  and  when  a  boy  has 
a  great  deal  of  self-esteem,  and  a  brave  suit 


122  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

of  clothes  right  from  Boston,  how  are  you 
going  to  help  yourselves,  pray  ?  So  Fred 
was  captain,  and  Willy  only  a  fifer. 

There  was  one  boy  in  the  ranks  who 
caused  some  trouble  —  Jock  Winter.  Not 
that  Jock  quarrelled,  or  did  anything  you 
could  find  fault  with  ;  but  he  was  simple- 
minded  and  a  hunchback,  and  some  of  the 
boys  made  fun  of  him.  When  Fred  became 
captain  he  fairly  hooted  him  out  of  the 
company.  " No  fair!  no  fair  !  "  cried  Willy, 
Joshua  Potter,  the  Lyman  twins,  and  two 
thirds  of  the  other  boys ;  but  the  captain 
had  his  way  in  spite  of  the  underground 
muttering. 

Saturday  afternoon  was  the  time  for  train 
ing.  The  Never-Give-Ups  met  at  the  old 
reel  store  kept  by  Daddy  Wiggins,  and 
paraded  down  the  village  street,  and  across 


THE  NEVEK-GIVE-UPS.  123 

the  bridge,  as  far  sometimes  as  the  Dug 
Way,  a  beautiful  spot  three  or  four  miles 
from  home.  They  were  a  goodly  sight  to 
see,  —  the  bright,  healthy  boys,  straight  as 
the  "  Quaker  guns  "  they  carried,  and  march 
ing  off  with  a  firm  and  manly  tread. 

Mothers  take  a  secret  pride  in  their  sons, 
and  many  loving  eyes  watched  this  proces 
sion  out  .of  town  ;  but  the  procession  didn't 
know  it,  for  the  mothers  were  very  much 
afraid  of  flattering  the  boys.  I  think  my 
self  it  would  have  done  the  little  soldiers 
no  harm  to  be  praised  once  in  a  while. 
Indeed,  I  wish  they  might  have  heard  the 
ladies  of  the  village  talking  about  them,  as 
they  met  to  drink  tea  at  Mrs.  Parlin's. 
She  never  went  out  herself,  but  often  in 
vited  company  to  what  they  called  little 
"  tea-junketings." 


124  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEK. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Potter,  the  doctor's 
wife,  "  isn't  it  enough  to  do  your  eyes  good 
to  see  such  a  noble  set  of  boys?" 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Griggs  ;  "  and  I 
am  not  afraid  for  our  country,  if  they  grow 
up  as  good  men  as  they  now  bid  fair  to 
be." 

Mrs.  Chase  could  not  respond  to  this, 
for  her  boy  Fred  was  a  great  trial ;  his 
father  indulged  him  too  much,  and  she 
had  had  strong  fears  that  he  might  take 
to  bad  habits.  But  he  was  as  handsome 
as  any  of  the  boys,  and  she  spoke  up 
quickly :  — 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Potter ;  as  you  say,  they  are 
a  noble-looking  set  of  boys ;  and  don't  they 
march  well  ?  " 

"  They  waste  a  great  deal  of  time ;  but 
then  they  might  be  doing  worse,  and  I  like 


THE  NEVEE-GIVE-UPS.  125 

to  see  boys  enjoy  themselves,"  said  Mrs. 
Lyman,  the  greatest  worker  in  town. 

Her  twins,  George  and  Silas,  ought  to 
have  heard  that,  for  they  thought  their 
mother  did  not  care  to  see  them  do  any 
thing  but  delve. 

"Ah,  bless  their  little  hearts,  we  are  all 
as  proud  of  them  as  we  can  be,"  said  rud 
dy,  fleshy  Mrs.  Parlin,  brushing  back  her 
purple  cap-strings  as  she  poured  the  tea. 
"  My  Willy,  now,  is  the  very  apple  of  my 
eye,  and  the  little  rogue  knows  it  too." 

Yes,  Willy  did  know  it,  for  his  mother 
was  not  afraid  to  tell  him  so.  The  other 
boys  had  love  doled  out  to  them  like  wed 
ding  cake,  as  if  it  were  too  rich  and  pre 
cious  for  common  use ;  but  Mrs.  Parlin's 
love  was  free  and  plenteous,  and  Willy 
lived  on  it  like  daily  bread. 


126  LITTLE   GKANDFATHEE. 

Kissing  and  petting  were  sure  to  spoil 
boys,  so  Elder  Lovejoy's  wife  thought;  and 
she  longed  to  say  so  to  Mrs.  Parlin;  but 
somehow  she  couldn't ;  for  her  little  Isaac 
was  not  half  as  good  as  Willy,  though  he 
hadn't  been  kissed  much  since  he  was  big 
enough  to  go  to  school. 

"  Willy's  grandpa  Cheever  has  sent  him 
a  splendid  present,"  said  Mrs.  Parlin;  "it 
is  a  drum.  His  birthday  will  come  next 
Wednesday;  but  when  I  saw  him  march 
ing  off  with  Freddy's  flageolet  under  his 
arm,  I  really  longed  to  give  him  the  drum 
to-day." 

"  I  dare  say  you  did,"  said  Mrs.  Lyman, 
warmly.  "We  mothers  enjoy  our  children's 
presents  more  than  they  enjoy  them  them 
selves." 

Then  she  and  Mrs.  Parlin  exchanged  a 


THE  NEVEK-GIVE-TJPS.  127 

pleasant  smile,  for  they  two  understood 
each  other  remarkably  well. 

Willy  received  his  drum  on  the  fifteenth 
of  September,  his  tenth  birthday,  and  was 
prouder  than  General  Washington  at  the 
surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis.  No  more 
borrowed  flageolets  for  him.  He  put  so 
much  soul  into  the  drumsticks  that  the 
noise  was  perfectly  deafening.  He  called 
the  family  to  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper, 
to  the  tune  of  "Hail  Columbia,"  or  "Fy! 
let  us  a'  to  the  wedding!"  and  nearly  dis 
tracted  Quaker  Liddy  by  making  her  roll 
out  her  pie-crust  to  the  exact  time  of  "  Yan 
kee  Doodle." 

"  I  don't  see  the  sense  of  such  a  con- 
tin-oo-al  thumping,  you  little  dear,"  said 
she. 

"  That's   'cause  you're   a  Quaker,"  cried 


128  LITTLE  GEANDFATHEE. 

Willy.  "  But  I  tell  you  while  my  name's 
Willy  Parlin  this  drum  shall  be  heard." 

Poor  Liddy  stopped  her  ears. 

"  What  you  smiling  for,  mother?"  said 
Willy.  "Are  you  pleased  to  think  you've 
got  a  little  boy  that  can  pound  music  so 
nice?" 

"  Not  exactly  that,  my  son.  I  was  won 
dering  whether  there  is  room  enough  out 
of  doors  for  that  drum." 

"Why,  mother!"  exclaimed  the  little  sol 
dier  much  chagrined.  "  Why,  mother  !  " 

Everybody  else  had  complained  of  the 
din;  but  he  thought  she,  with  her  fine 
musical  taste,  must  be  delighted.  After 
this  pointed  slight  he  did  not  pound  so 
much  in  the  house,  and  the  animals  got 
more  benefit  of  the  noise.  Towler  enjoyed 
it  hugely;  and  the  cows  might  have  kept 


THE  NEVEB-GIYE-UPS.  129 

step  to  the  pasture  every  morning,  and  the 
hens  every  night  to  the  roost,  if  they  had 
had  the  least  ear  for  music.  Siller  Noonin, 
who  believed  in  witches,  began  to  think 
the  boy  was  "possessed."  Love  laughed, 
and  said  she  did  not  believe  that :  but  she 
was  afraid  Willy  spoke  the  truth  every  day 
when  he  said  so  stoutly, — 

"  While  my  name  is  Willy  Parlin,  this 
drum  shall  be  heard." 

She  wondered  if  parchment  would  ever 
wear  out. 

He  drummed  with  so  much  spirit  that 
it  had  a  strong  effect  on  the  little  training 
company.  They  had  always  liked  him  much 
better  than  Fred,  and  were  glad  of  an  ex 
cuse  now  to  make  him  their  captain.  A 
boy  who  could  fife  so  well,  and  drum  so 
9 


130  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

well,  ought  to  be  promoted,  they  thought 
—  "All  in  favor  say  Ay!" 

Poor  Fred  was  dismayed.  He  had  always 
known  he  was  unpopular;  still  he  had  not 
expected  this. 

"But  how  can  /be  captain?"  replied 
Willy,  ready  to  shout  with  delight.  "If 
I'm  captain,  who'll  beat  my  drum?" 

"Isaac   Lovejoy,"    was   the   quick    reply. 

That  settled  it,  and  Willy  said  no  more. 
He  was  now  leader  of  the  company,  and 
Fred  Chase  was  obliged  to  walk  behind 
him  as  first  lieutenant. 

But  the  moment  Willy  was  promoted, 
and  before  they  began  to  march,  he  "  took 
the  stump,"  and  made  a  stirring  speech  in 
favor  of  Jock  Winter. 

"Now  see  here,  boys,"  said  he,  leaning 
on  his  wooden  gun,  and  looking  around 


THE  NEVER-GIVE-UPS.  131 

him  persuasively.  " '  All  men  are  born  free 
and  equal.'  I  s'pose  you  know  that?  It's 
put  down  so  in  the  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence  !  " 

"  O,  yes  !      Ay !     Ay  !  " 

"  Well,  Jock  Winter  was  born  as  free 
and  equal  as  any  of  us ;  he  wasn't  born 
a  hunchback.  But  see  here :  wouldn't  you 
be  a  hunchback  yourself,  s'posing  your 
father  had  let  you  fall  down  stairs  when 
you  was  a  baby  ?  I  put  it  to  you  —  now 
wouldn't  you?" 

"  Ay,  ay,"  responded  the   boys. 

"  Well ;  and  s'pose  folks  made  fun  of 
you  just  for  that;  how  would  you  like  it?" 

"  Shouldn't  like  it  at  all." 

"But  then  Jock's  just  about  half  wit- 
ted,"  put  in  Fred,  faintly.  He  knew  his 
power  was  gone,  but  he  wanted  to  say 
something. 


132  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"Well,   what   if  he   is   half-witted?     Re 
thinks   more    of  his   country   than   you  do ; 
twice  more,   and   risk   it." 

"  That's  so,"  cried  Joshua  Potter.  "Fred 
says  if  there's  another  war,  Tie  won't  go  ; 
he  never'll  stand  up  for  a  mark  to  be  shot 
at,  at  eleven  dollars  a  month ! " 

"  O,  for  shame  ! "  exclaimed  the  captain. 

"  Now  you  hush  up,"  said  Fred,  redden 
ing.  "  I  was  only  in  fun — of  course  I  was  ! 
You  needn't  say  anything,  Will  Parlin ;  a 
boy  that  has  a  Tory  drum!" 

"  It's  a  good  Whig  drum  as  ever  lived! " 
returned  Willy.  "  But  come,  now,  boys  ; 
will  we  have  Jock  Winter?  " 

It  was  a  vote ;  and  the  Never-Give-Ups 
went  over  the  river  in  a  body  to  invite 
him.  He  lived  in  a  log-house  with  his 
grandfather,  and  a  negro  servant  known 


THE  NEVEB-GIVE-UPS.  133 

as  Joe  Whitehead.  Old  Mr.  Winter  was 
aroused  from  his  afternoon  nap  by  the  ter 
rific  beating  of  the  drum,  and  thought  the 
British  were  coming  down  upon  him. 

"  Joe  !  Joe  !  "  cried  he.  "  Get  your 
scythe,  Joe,  and  mow  'em  down  as  fast  as 
they  come ! " 

When  the  little  boys  heard  of  this,  it 
amused  them  greatly.  Mistaken  for  the 
British  army,  indeed!  Well,  now,  that  was 
something  worth  while ! 

A  happier  soul  than  little,  simple,  round- 
shouldered  Jock  you  never  saw,  unless  it 
was  his  poor  old  grandfather.  He  could 
keep  step  with  the  best  of  them ;  but  un 
fortunately  he  had  no  decent  clothes.  This 
was  a  great  drawback,  but  Mrs.  Paiiin  and 
Mrs.  Lyman  took  pity  on  the  boy,  and 
made  him  a  nice  suit. 


134  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  MUSTER. 

WILLY  proved  to  have  fine  powers  as 
a  leader.  Like  the  famous  John  Gilpin, 

"  A  train-band   captain   eke   was  he, 
Of  credit   and  renown," 

and  the  Never-Give-Ups  became  such  an 
orderly,  well-trained  company,  that  some 
of  the  rich  fathers  made  them  the  present 
of  a  small  cannon. 

Do  you  know  what  a  wonderful  change 
that  made  in  the  condition  of  things  ?  Well, 
I  will  tell  you.  They  became  at  once  an 
Artillery  Company!  Not  poor  little  infan 
try  any  more,  but  great,  brave  artillery  I 


THE  MUSTER.  135 

Every  man  among  them  east  aside  his 
.Quaker  gun  with  contempt,  and  wore  a 
cut-and-thrust  sword,  made  out  of  the  sharp 
est  kind  of  wood.  An  Artillery  Company, 
—  think  of  that !  The  boys  threw  up  their 
caps,  and  Willy  sang,  — 

"  Come,  fill  up  my  cup,    come,  fill  up  my  can ; 
Come,  saddle  your  horses,  and  call  up  your  men! 
Come,   open  the  west  port,  and  let  us  gang  free, 
And  it's  room  for  the  bonnets  of  Bonny  Dundee ! " 

There  was  to  be  a  General  Muster  that 
fall,  and  if  you  suppose  the  Perseverance 
boys  had  thought  of  anything  else  since 
the  Fourth  of  July,  that  shows  how  little 
you  know  about  musters. 

A  muster,  boys  —  Well,  I  never  saw 
a  muster,  myself;  but  it  must  have  been 
something  like  this  :  — 

A  mixture  of  guns  and  gingerbread;  men 
and  music  ;  horses  and  hard  cider. 


136  LITTLE   GBANDFATHER. 

It  was  very  exciting,  —  I  know  that. 
There  were  plumes  dancing,  flags  waving, 
cannons  firing,  men  marching,  boys  scream 
ing,  dogs  barking  ;  and  women  looking  on 
in  -  their  Sunday  bonnets. 

The  "  Sharp-shooters "  and  the  "String 
Beans"  were  there  from  Cross  Lots;  the 
Artillery  from  Harlow ;  the  "  Pioneers,"  in 
calico  frocks,  with  wooden  axes,  from  Cam- 
den;  and  all  the  infantry  and  cavalry  from 
the  whole  country  round  about. 

Seth  Parlin  belonged  to  the  cavalry,  or 
"  troop,"  and  made  a  fine  figure  on  horse 
back.  Willy  secretly  wondered  if  he  would 
look  as  well  when  he  grew  up. 

"  Saddled  and  bridled  and  booted  rode  he, 
A  plume  at  his  helmet, 
A  sword  at  his  knee." 

It  seemed  to  be   the  general   impression 


THE  MUSTEK.  137 

that  the  muster  would  do  the  country  a 
great  deal  of  good.  The  little  artillery 
company,  called  the  Never-Give-Ups,  were 
on  the  ground  before  any  one  else,  their 
cheeks  painted  with  clear,  cold  air,  and 
their  hearts  bursting  with  patriotism.  As 
a  rule,  children  were  ordered  out  of  the 
way ;  but  as  the  little  Never-Give-Ups  had 
a  cannon,  they  were  allowed  to  march  be 
hind  the  large  companies,  provided  they 
would  be  orderly  and  make  no  disturbance. 

"Boys,"  said  Willy,  sternly,  —  for  he  felt 
all  the  importance  of  the  occasion, —  "boys, 
remember,  George  Washington  was  the  Fa 
ther  of  his  Country  ;  so  you've  got  to 
behave." 

The  boys  remembered  "the  father  of  his 
country"  for  a  while,  but  before  the  close 
of  the  afternoon  forgot  him  entirely.  There 


138  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

were  several  stalls  where  refreshments  were 
to  be  had,  —  such  as  cakes,  apples,  molas 
ses  taffy,  sugar  candy,  and  cider  by  the 
mugful,  not  to  mention  the  liquors,  which 
were  quite  too  fiery  for  the  little  Never- 
Give-Ups. 

At  every  halt  in  the  march  the  boys 
bought  something  to  eat  or  drink.  There 
had  been  a  barrel  of  cider  brought  from 
Mr.  Chase's  for  their  especial  use,  and  Fred 
sold  it  out  to  the  boys  for  four  cents  a 
glass.  This  was  a  piece  of  extraordinary 
meanness  in  him,  for  his  father  had  in 
tended  the  cider  as  a  present  to  the  com 
pany.  The  boys  did  not  know  this,  how 
ever,  and  paid  their  money  in  perfect  good 
faith. 

"Hard  stuff,"  said  Willy,  draining  his 
mug.  "I  don't  like  it  much." 


THE  MUSTER.  139 

"  Why,  it's  tip-top,"  returned  Fred.  "  My 
father  says  it's  the  best  he  ever  saw." 

Mr.  Chase  had  never  said  anything  of 
the  sort.  He  had  merely  ordered  his  col 
ored  servant,  Pompey,  to  put  a  barrel  of 
cider  on  the  wheelbarrow,  and  take  it  to 
the  muster-ground.  Whether  Pompey  and 
Fred  had  selected  this  one  for  its  age  I 
cannot  tell,  but  the  boys  all  declared  -  it 
was  "  as  hard  as  a  stone  wall." 

Dr.  Hilton,  who  seemed  to  be  every 
where  at  once,  heard  them  say  that,  and 
exclaimed,  — 

"Then  I  wouldn't  drink  any  more  of  it, 
boys.  Hard  cider  does  make  anybody  dread 
ful  cross.  Better  let  it  alone." 

I  fear  the  boys  did  not  follow  this  ad 
vice,  for  certain  it  is  that  they  grew  out 
rageously  cross.  The  trouble  began,  I  be- 


140  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

lieve,  with  Abram  Noonin,  who  suddenly 
declared  he  wouldn't  march  another  step 
with  Jock  Winter.  As  the  marching  was 
all  done  for  the  day,  Abram  might  as  well 
have  kept  quiet. 

"Yes,  you  shall  march  with  Jock  Win 
ter,  too,"  said  Captain  Willy,  exasperated 
with  the  throbbing  pain  in  his  head  —  the 
first  he  had  ever  felt  in  his  life.  "  Pretty 
doings,  if  you  are  going  to  set  up  and  say, 
'I  will'  and  'I  won't!"' 

While  the  captain  and  the  private  were 
shooting  sharp  words  back  and  forth,  and 
Fred  was  busy  drawing  cider,  Isaac  Love- 
joy,  the  rogue  of  the  company,  was  very 
busy  with  his  own  mischief. 

"Look  here,  Fred,"  said  Joshua  Potter, 
going  up  to  the  stall  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye ;  "  they  don't  ask  but  three  cents  a 


TFTE  MUSTEK.  141 

mug,  round  at  the  other  end  of  the 
barrel  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  cried 
the  young  cider  merchant,  looking  up  just 
in  time  to  see  Isaac  Lovejoy  marching  oft 
with  the  pitcher  he  had  been  filling  from 
a  hole  in  the  barrel  made  with  his  jack- 
knife. 

"Stop   thief!     Stop   thief!"  cried   Fred. 

"  That's  right,"  said  one  of  the  big  boys 
from  over  the  river.  "Ike's  selling  your 
cider  to  the  men  for  three  cents  a  glass." 

Perhaps  this  was  one  of  Isaac's  jokes, 
and  he  intended  to  give  back  the  money; 
we  will  hope  so.  But,  be  that  as  it  may, 
Fred  was  terribly  angry ;  as  angry,  mind 
you,  as  if  he  was  an  honest  boy  himself, 
and  had  a  perfect  right  to  all  the  coppers 
jingling  in  his  own  pockets! 


142  LITTLE  GRAKDFATHEE. 

He  ran  after  Ike,  and  caught  him  ;  and 
there  was  a  scuffle,  in  which  the  pitcher 
was  broken.  Mr.  Chase  came  up  to  inquire 
into  it. 

"  Tut,  tut,  Isaac !  "  said  he  ;  "  aren't  you 
ashamed?  You  know  that  cider  was  a 
present  to  the  Never-Give-Ups." 

The  boys  were  astonished,  and  Fred's 
face  crimsoned  with  shame.  As  soon  as 
Mr.  Chase  had  gone  away,  Willy  exclaimed, 
with  a  sudden  burst  of  wrath, — 

"  Well,  boys,  if  you  are  going  to  stand 
such  a  mean  lieutenant  as  that,  I  won't! 
If  he  stays  in  lieutenant,  I  won't  stay  cap 
tain —  so  there!" 

u  Three  cheers  for  the  captain !  "  cried 
the  boys ;  and  there  was  another  uproar. 

And  how  did  Fred  feel  towards  the  fear 
less,  out-spoken  Willy  ?  Very  angry,  of 


THE   MUSTEK.  143 

course ;  but,  if  you  will  believe  me,  lie  re 
spected  him  more  than  ever.  Pompous 
boys  are  often  mean-spirited  and  cowardly ; 
they  will  browbeat  those  who  are  afraid  of 
them ;  but  those  who  look  down  on  them 
and  despise  them,  they  hold  in  the  highest 
esteem.  Willy  had  never  scrupled  to  tell 
Fred  just  what  he  thought  of  his  conduct ; 
and  for  that  very  reason  Fred  liked  him 
better  than  any  other  boy  in  town. 

But  the  Never-Give-Ups  were  growing 
decidedly  noisy.  After  they  learned  that 
the  cider  was  their  own,  they  must  drink 
more  of  it,  whether  they  wanted  it  er 
not.  The  consequence  was,  they  soon  began 
to  act  disgracefully. 

"  Can't  you  have  peace  there,  you  young 
scamps?"  said  one  of  the  big  boys  from 
over  the  river. 


144  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

"  Yes,  we  will  have  peace  if  we  have 
to  fight  for  it,"  replied  the  captain,  who 
had  drawn  the  little  hunchback  Jock  to 
his  side,  and  was  darting  glances  at  Abe 
Noonin  as  sharp  as  a  cut-and-thrust  sword. 

"  Mr.  Chase,"  said  Dr.  Hilton,  struck  with 
a  new  idea,  "  those  boys  act  as  if  they 
were  drunk." 

"  Why,  how  can  they  be?"  returned  Mr. 
Chase;  " they've  had  nothing  to  drink  but 
innocent  cider." 

"Any  way,"  cried  the  doctor,  "they 
are  getting  up  a  regular  mob,  and  we  shall 
have  to  quail  it !  " 

Too  true:  it  was  necessary  to  quell  the 
Never-Give-Ups,  that  orderly  artillery  com 
pany,  the  pride  of  the  town !  Quell  it, 
and  order  it  off  the  grounds ! 

Dire    disgrace !      Their    steps    were    un- 


THE  MUSTER.  145 

steady  and  slow ;  their  heads  were  bowed, 
but  not  with  grief,  for,  to  say  the  truth, 
they  did  not  fully  comprehend  the  situ 
ation. 

"  The  little  captain  is  the  furthest  gone 
of  any  of  them,"  said  Dr.  Hilton.  Indeed, 
before  he  reached  home  he  was  unable  to 
walk,  and  Stephen  carried  him  into  the 
house  in  his  arms.  Not  that  Willy  had 
drunk  so  much  as  some  of  the  others,  but 
it  had  affected  him  more. 

Poor  Mrs.  Parlin  !  She  had  to  know 
what  was  the  matter  with  her  boy;  and 
the  shock  was  so  great  that  she  went  to 
bed  sick,  and  Mr.  Parlin  sent  for  the 
doctor. 

When  Willy  came  to  his  senses  next 
morning,  there  was  a  guilty  feeling  hanging 
over  him,  and  his  head  ached  badly.  He 
10 


146  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

crept  down  stairs,  and  fixed  his  gaze  first 
on  the  sanded  floor  of  the  kitchen,  then 
on  the  dresser  full  of  dishes;  but  to  look 
any  one  in  the  face  he  was  ashamed.  His 
mother  was  not  at  the  table,  and  they 
ate  almost  in  silerice. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Parlin, 
after  breakfast,  "you  may  walk  out  to  the 
barn  with  me."  Willy  had  a  dim  idea  that 
he  had  done  something  wrong ;  but  exactly 
what  it  was  he  could  not  imagine.  He 
remembered  scolding  Abe  Noonin  for  hurt 
ing  little  Jock's  feelings  ;  was  that  what 
he  was  to  be  punished  for? 

Willy  did  not  know  he  had  been  intox 
icated.  He  was  sure  he  did  not  like  that 
cider,  yesterday,  and  had  taken  only  a  little 
of  it.  He  supposed  he  had  eaten  too  much, 
and  that  was  what  had  made  him  sick. 


THE  MUSTER.  147 

"Off  with  your  jacket,  young  man!" 

Old  Dick  neighed,  Towler  growled,  the 
sheep  bleated ;  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  all 
protesting  against  Willy's  being  whipped. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Parlin,  after  a 
dozen  hearty  lashes,  "shall  I  ever  hear  of 
your  getting  drunk  again  ?  " 

"  Why,  father !  I  didn't  —  O,  I  didn't !  I 
only  took  some  cider  —  just  two  mugfuls!" 
gasped  Willy ;  "  that's  all ;  and  you  know 
you  always  let  me  drink  cider." 

"Two  mugfuls!"  groaned  Mr.  Parlin, 
distressed  at  what  he  considered  a  wilful 
lie;  and  the  blows  fell  heavier  and  faster, 
while  Willy's  face  whitened,  and  his  teeth 
shut  together  hard.  Mr.  Parlin  had  never 
acted  from  purer  motives  ;  still  Willy  felt 
that  the  punishment  was  not  just,  and  it 
only  served  to  call  up  what  the  boys 
termed  his  "Indian  sulks." 


148  LITTLE   GBANDFATHER. 

Angry  and  smarting  with  pain  in  mind 
and  body,  lie  walked  off  that  afternoon  to 
the  old  red  store.  Fred  was  sitting  under 
a  tree,  chewing  gum. 

"Had  to   take   it,   I   guess,    Billy?" 

"  Yes,  an  awful  whipping,"  replied  Willy; 
"did  you?" 

"  Me  ?  Of  course  not.  Do  you  know 
how  I  work  it  ?  When  father  takes  down 
the  cowhide,  I  look  him  right  in  the  eye', 
and  that  scares  him  out  of  it.  He  darsn't 
flog  me!" 

This  was  a  downright  lie.  Fred  was  as 
great  a  coward  as  ever  lived,  and  screamed 
at  sight  of  a  cowhide.  He  had  been  whipped 
for  cheating  about  the  cider,  but  would  not 
tell  Willy  so. 

Willy  looked  at  him  with  surprise  and 
something  like  respect.  He  could  never 


THE  MUSTER.  149 

seem  to  learn  that  Freddy's  word  was  not 
to  be  trusted. 

"  Well,  I'll  do  so  next  time,"  cried  he, 
his  eyes  flashing  fire. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Fred,  crossing  his 
knees,  and  looking  important ;  "  let's  run 
away." 

"  Why,  Fred  Chase  I  'Twould  be  wicked ! " 

"  'Tvvouldn't,  either.  Things  ain't  wicked 
when  folks  don't  catch  you  at  it;  and  we 
can  go  where  folks  won't  catch  us,  now  I 
promise  you." 

Willy's  heart  leaped  up  with  a  strange 
joy.  He  would  not  run  away,  but  if  Fred 
had  a  plan  he  wanted  to  hear  it. 

"Why,   where   could   we   go?" 

"To   sea/' 

"  Poh !  our  Caleb  got  flogged  going  to 
sea." 


150  LITTLE   GRAKDFATHEB. 

"  O,  well,  Captain  Cutter  never  flogs. 
He's  a  nice  man,  —  lives  down  to  Casco 
Bay.  And  of  all  the  oranges  that  ever 
you  saw,  and  the  guava  jelly,  and  the 
pine-apples !  he's  always  sending  them  to 
mother." 

"  I  never  ate  a  pine-apple." 

"  Didn't  you  ?  Well,  come,  let's  go  ; 
Captain  Cutter  will  be  real  glad  to  see  us ; 
come,  to-night;  he'll  treat  us  first  rate." 

"  '  My  son,  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent 
thou  not.'  ' 

It  seemed  as  if  Willy  could  hear  his 
mother  saying  the  words. 

"You  and  I  are  the  best  kind  of  friends, 
Willy.  We'd  have  a  real  nice  time,  and 
come  home  when  we  got  ready." 

Willy  did  not  respond  to  this.  He  did 
not  care  very  much  about  Fred,  —  nobody 


THE  MUSTER.  151 

did,  —  and  if  he  should  be  persuaded  to 
go  with  him,  it  would  not  be  from  friend 
ship,  most  certainly. 

"  I   wouldn't   go   off   and   leave   mother ; 
'twould    be    real    mean :    but    sometimes   I 
don't   like   father   one   bit,  —  now,  that's   a 
fact,"   burst    forth    Willy,    with  a  heaving 
breast.      "  I    told    him    I   didn't  like   your 
cider,    and   didn't   take   but    two   mugfuls ; 
but   he   didn't   believe   a   word   I  said." 
"  You're   a   fool   to   stand  it,  Billy." 
"I   won't   stand   it   again  —  so  there!" 
"  There,    that's     real    Injun    grit,"    said 
Fred,  approvingly;  "stick   to   it." 

"  Father  thinks  children  are  foolish ;  he 
hates  to  hear  'em  talk,"  pursued  Willy; 
"  and  then,  when  you  don't  talk,  he  says 
you're  sulky." 

"Well,  if  you  go  off  he  won't  get  a 
chance  to  say  it  again." 


152  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"O,  but  you  see,  Fred — " 

"  Pshaw  !   you   daren't  !  " 

"  Now,  you're  not  the  one  to  call  me  a 
coward,  Fred  Chase." 

"  Well,  if  you   dars^  then  come  on." 

Willy  did  not  answer.  He  was  deliber 
ating;  and  I  wish  you  to  understand  that 
in  a  case  like  this  "the  child  that  delib 
erates  is  lost." 

Without  listening  to  any  more  of  the 
boys'  conversation,  we  will  go  right  on  to 
the  next  chapter,  and  see  what  comes  of  it. 


GOING  TO  SEA.  153 


CHAPTER  X. 

GOING  TO    SEA. 

SEVEN  o'clock  was  the  time  appointed 
to  meet,  and  Willy  watched  the  tall  clock 
in  the  front  entry  with  a  dreadful  sinking 
at  the  heart.  His  mother  was  not  at  the 
supper-table  and  he  was  glad  of  that. 
Ever  since  muster  she  had  staid  in  her 
room,  suffering  from  a  bad  toothache.  As 
her  face  was  tied  up,  and  she  could  not 
talk,  Willy  was  not  quite  sure  how  she  felt. 

"  How  can  I  tell  whether  she  has  been 
crying  or  not?  Her  eyes  are  swelled,  any 
way.  Perhaps  she  doesn't  care  much.  She 
used  to  love  me,  but  she  thinks  I  act  so 


154  LITTLE   GBANDFATHER. 

bad  now  that  it's  no  use  doing  anything 
with  me.  I  can't  make  her  understand  it 
at  all." 

It  was  a  pity  he  thought  of  his  mother 
just  then,  for  it  was  hard  enough,  before 
that,  swallowing  his  biscuit. 

"  She  said  to  me,  out  in  the  orchard, 
one  day, — says  she,  '  Willy,  if  a  boy  wants 
to  do  wrong,  he'll  find  some  way  to  do  it ; ' 
and  I  s'pose  she  was  thinking  about  me 
when  she  said  it.  S'pose  she  thinks  I'm 
going  to  be  bad  —  mother  does.  Well,  then, 
I  ought  to  go  off  out  of  the  way ;  she 
doesn't  want  me  here  ;  what  does  she 
want  of  a  bad  boy?  Shell  be  glad  to  get 
rid  of  me  ;  so'll  Love." 

You  see  what  a  hopeless  tangle  Willy's 
mind  was  in.  What  ailed  his  biscuit  he 
could  not  imagine,  but  it  tasted  as  dry 
as  ashes. 


GOING  TO  SEA.  155 

"  Why,  sonny,"  said  Stephen,  "  what  are 
you  staring  at  your  plate  so  for?  That's 
honey.  Ever  see  any  before?" 

"  This  is  the  last  chance  Steve  will  have 
to  pester  me,"  thought  the  child;  and  he 
almost  pitied  him. 

"  Guess  he'll  feel  sorry  he's  been  so  hard 
on  a  little  fellow  like  me." 

As  for  grown-up  Seth,  it  was  certain 
that  his  conscience  would  prick,  and  on  the 
whole  Willy  was  rather  glad  of  it,  for  Seth 
had  no  right  to  correct  him  so  much. 
"  Only  eighteen,  and  not  my  father  either !  " 

Willy  did  not  think  much  about  himself, 
and  how  he  would  be  likely  to  feel  after 
he  had  left  this  dear  old  home  —  the  home 
where  every  knot-hole  in  the  floor  was 
precious.  It  would  not  do  to  brood  over 
that;  and  besides,  there  was  sullen  anger 


156  LITTLE  GBANDFATHEK. 

enough  in  his  heart  to  crowd  out  every 
other  feeling. 

There  were  circles  in  the  wood  of  the 
shed-door  which  he  had  made  with  a  two- 
tined  fork ;  and  after  supper  he  made  some 
more,  while  waiting  for  a  chance  to  pocket 
a  plate  of  doughnuts.  Of  course  it  wasn't 
wrong  to  take  doughnuts,  when  it  was  the 
last  morsel  he  should  ever  eat  from  his 
mother's  cupboard.  He  had  the  whole  of 
eighteen  cents  in  his  leathern  wallet ;  but 
that  sum  might  fail  before  winter,  and  it 
was  best  to  take  a  little  food  for  economy's 
sake. 

At  quarter  of  seven  he  put  on  his  cap, 
and  was  leaving  the  house,  when  his  father 
said,  severely,  — 

"  Where  are   you  going,  young  man  ?  " 

Mr.  Parlin  did  not  mean  to  be  severe, 


GOING  TO   SEA.  157 

but  he  usually  called  Willy  a  "  young 
man "  when  he  was  displeased  with  him. 

"  Going  to  the  post-office,  sir,  just  as  I 
always  do." 

Willy  spoke  respectfully,  —  he  had  never 
done  otherwise  to  his  father,  —  and  Mr. 
Parlin  little  suspected  the  tempest  that  was 
raging  in  the  child's  bosom. 

"  Very  well  ;  go  !  but  don't  be  gone 
long." 

"  '  Long  ?  '  Don't  know  what  he  calls 
long,"  thought  the  little  boy.  "P'raps  I'll 
be  gone  two  years ;  p'raps  I'll  be  gone 
ten.  Calls  me  a  c  young  man '  after  he  has 
whipped  me.  Guess  I  will  be  a  young 
man  before  I  get  back  !  Guess  there  won't 
be  any  more  horse  whippings  then  !  " 

And,  dizzy  with  anger,  he  walked  fast 
to  the  post  office,  without  turning  his  head. 


158  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

Fred  was  there,  anxiously  waiting  for 
him.  The  two  boys  greeted  each  other 
with  a  meaning  look,  and  soon  began  to 
move  slowly  along  towards  the  guide-board 
at  the  turn  of  the  road. 

To  the  people  who  happened  to  be  look 
ing  that  way,  it  seemed  natural  enough 
that  Willy  and  Fred  should  be  walking 
together.  If  anybody  thought  twice  about 
the  matter,  it  was  Dr.  Hilton;  and  I  dare 
say  he  supposed  they  were  swapping  jack- 
knives. 

As  soon  as  they  were  fairly  out  of  sight 
of  the  village,  Fred  said,  sneeringly, — 

"  Well,  I've  been  waiting  most  half  an 
hour  —  I  suppose  you  know.  Began  to 
think  you'd  sneaked  out  of  it,  Bill." 

There  is  an  insult  in  the  word  '  sneak ' 
that  no  boy  of  spirit  can  bear,  and  Willy 
was  in  no  mood  to  be  insulted. 


GOING  TO   SEA.  159 

"  Fred  Chase,''  said  he,  bristling,  "  I'll 
give  you  one  minute  to  take  that  back." 

"  O,  I  didn't  mean  anything,  Billy ;  only 
you  was  so  awful  slow,  you  know." 

"  Slow,  Fred  Chase !  You  needn't  call 
me  slow!  Bet  you  I  can  turn  round  three 
times  while  you're  putting  out  one  foot." 

It  is  plain  enough,  from  the  tone  of  this 
conversation,  that  the  boys  had  not  started 
out  with  that  friendly  feeling,  which  two 
travellers  ought  to  have  for  each  other, 
who  are  intending  to  take  a  long  journey 
in  company.  Fred  saw  it  would  not  do  for 
Willy  to  be  so  cross  in  the  very  beginning. 
He  had  had  hard  work  to  get  the  boy's 
consent  to  go,  and  now,  for  fear  he  might 
turn  back,  he  suddenly  became  very 
pleasant. 

"  Look  here,  Billy;  you  can  beat  me  run- 


160  LITTLE   GKA^DFATHER. 

ning ;  I  own  up  to  that ;  but  we've  got 
to  keep  together,  you  know.  Don't  you 
get  ahead  of  me — now  will  you?" 

"  I'll  try  not  to,"  replied  Willy,  some 
what  softened ;  "  but  you  do  get  out  of 
breath  as  easy  as  a  chicken." 

"  Most  time  to  begin  to  run?"  said 
Fred,  after  they  had  trudged  on  for  some 
time  at  a  moderate  pace. 

"  No ;  there's  a  man  coming  this  way," 
replied  the  sharper-eyed  Willy. 

"  O,  yes ;  I  see  him  now.  Who  suppose 
it  is?" 

"  Why,  Dr.  Potter,  of  course.  Don't  you 
know  him  by  his  shappo  Irar?" 

The  chapeau  Iras  was  a  three-cornered 
hat,  the  like  of  which  you  and  I  have 
never  seen,  except  in  very  old  pictures. 

As   Dr.   Potter  met  the    boys,  he  shook 


GOING  TO   SEA.  161 

his  ivory-headed  cane,  and  said^  playfully, 
"  Good  evening,  my  little  men." 

"  Good  evening,  sir." 

But  it  was  certainly  a  bad  evening  in 
side  their  hearts,  sulky  and  dark. 

"What  if  Dr.  Potter  should  tell  where 
he  met  us  ? "  exclaimed  Fred.  "  Lucky 
'twasn't  Dr.  Hilton.  —  There,  he's  out  of 
the  way;  now  let's  run." 

They  were  on  the  road  to  Cross  Lots,  a 
town  about  five  miles  from  Perseverance. 
They  haci  not  as  yet  marked  out  their 
course  very  clearly,  but  thought  after  they 
should  reach  Cross  Lots  it  would  be  time 
enough  to  decide  what  to  do  next. 

They  ran   with  all  their  might,  but  did 

not  make  the  speed  they  desired,   for  they 

jumped   behind    the   fences   whenever   they 

heard  a  wagon   coming,  and  were   obliged 

11 


162  LITTLE   GBANDFATHER. 

to  stop  often,  besides,  for  Freddy  to  take 
breath.  By  the  time  they  reached  Cross 
Lots  —  a  thriving  little  town  with  a  saw 
mill  —  it  was  pretty  late ;  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  bright  light  of  the  moon 
and  stars,  they  might  have  been  a  little 
disheartened. 

They  took  a  seat  on  a  stump  near  the 
saw-mill,  and  prepared  to  talk  over  the 
situation.  A  lonesome  feeling  had  sudden 
ly  come  upon  them,  which  caused  them 
to  gaze  wistfully  upon  the  "happy  autumn 
fields"  and  the  far-off  sky. 

"  Stars  look  kind  o'  shiny  —  don't  they?  " 
said  Fred,  heaving  a  sigh. 

Willy  forced  a  gay  tone. 

"What  s'pose  makes  'em  keep  up  such 
a  winking?  Like  rows  of  pins,  you  know, 
—  gold  pinsj  much  as  a  million  of  'em, 


GOING  TO  SEA.  163 

and  somebody  sticking  'em  into  a  great 
blue  cushion  up  there,  and  keeps  a-sticking 
'em  in,  but  out  they  come  again." 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  silly  idea  in 
my  life,"  sneered  Fred.  "  Pins !  —  H'm  !  " 

"  Why,  can't  you  tell  when  a  fellow's 
in  fun,  Fred  Chase  ?  Thought  I  meant 
real  pins  —  did  you  ?  The  stars  are  worlds, 
and  I  guess  I  know  it  as  well  as  you 
do." 

"  Worlds  ?  A  likely  story,  Bill  Par- 
lin !  Mother  has  said  so  lots  of  tinges, 
but  you  don't  stuff  such  a  story  down  my 
throat." 

"  Don't  believe  your  mother !  "  exclaimed 
Willy,  astonished.  "  Why,  I  always  believe 
my  mother.  She  never  made  a  mistake  in 
her  life." 

Fred  laughed. 


164  LITTLE  GKANDFATHER. 

"  She  don't  know  any  more'n  anybody 
else,  you  ninny !  only  you  think  so  because 
she  makes  such  a  baby  of  you." 

Willy  reddened  with  sudden  shame,  but 
retorted  sharply,  — 

"  Stop  that  !  You  shan't  say  a  word 
against  my  mother." 

"  But  you  let  me  talk  about  your  father, 
though.  What's  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Lots.  You  may  talk  about  father  as 
much  as  you've  a  mind  to,"  said  Willy, 
scowling ;  "  for  he  no  business  to  whip  me 
so.  He  thinks  boys  are  pretty  near  fools." 

"  That's  just  what  my  father  thinks," 
returned  Fred. 

Whereupon  the  two  boys  were  friends 
again,  having  got  back  to  their  one  point 
of  agreement. 

"If  I  had  a  boy  I  wouldn't  treat  him 


GOING  TO   SEA.  165 

so, — now  I  tell  you,"  said  Willy,  clinch 
ing  his  little  fists.  "  I'd  let  him  have  a 
good  time  when  he's  young." 

"So'd  I!" 

"  For  when  he's  old  he  won't  want  to 
have  a  good  time." 

"That's  so." 

"And  I  wouldn't  be  stingy  to  him;  I'd 
let  him  have  all  the  money  he  could 
spend." 

"  So'd  I,"  responded  the  ungrateful  Fred, 
who  had  probably  had  more  dollars  given 
him  to  throw  away  than  any  other  boy 
in  the  county. 

"I'd  treat  a  boy  real  well.  I  wouldn't 
make  him  work  as  tight  as  he  could  put 
in,"  pursued  Willy,  overcome  with  dread 
ful  recollections. 

"Nor  I,  neither!     Guess  I  wouldn't!" 


166  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEB. 

"  Poh  !  what  do  you  know  about  it, 
Fred?  Your  father's  rich,  and  don't  keep 
a  pig  !  » 

"  What  if  he  don't  ?  What  hurt  does  a 
pig  do?" 

"Why,  you  have  to  carry  out  swill  to 
'em.  Then  there's  the  wood-box,  and 
there's  the  corn  to  husk,  and  the  cows  to 
bring  up  !  It  makes  a  fellow  ache  all 
over." 

"  No  worse'n  errands,  Bill !  Guess  you 
never  came  any  nearer  blistering  your  feet 
than  I  did  last  summer,  time  we  had  so 
much  company.  Mother's  a  case  for  think 
ing  up  errands." 

"  Well,  Fred,  we've  started  to  run  away." 

"  Should  think  it's  likely  we  had." 

"  I'm  going  'cause  I  can't  stand  it  to 
be  whipped  any  more;  but  you  don't  get 


GOING  TO   SEA.  167 

whipped,  Fred.  What  are  you  going 
for  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  seek  my  fortune,"  replied 
Fred,  spitting,  in  a  manly  fashion,  into  a 
clump  of  smartweed.  "  Always  meant  to, 
you  know,  soon's  I  got  so  I  could  take 
care  of  myself;  and  now  I  can  cipher  as 
far  as  substraction,  what  more  does  a  fel 
low  want  ?  " 

"  Don't  believe  you  can  spell  '  phthisic,' 
though." 

As  this  remark  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  case  in  point,  Fred  took  no  notice  of 
it.  What  if  he  couldn't  spell  as  well  as 
Willy?  He  was  a  year  and  a  half  older, 
and  had  the  charge  of  this  expedition. 

"  Which  way  you  mean  to  point,  Billy?" 

"Why,  I  thought  we  were  going  to  sea. 
That's  what  you  said ;  and  I  put  a  lot  of 


168  LITTLE   GRAKDFATHEK. 

nutcakes  in  my  pocket  to  eat  'fore  we  got 
to  the  ship." 

"You  did?  Well,  give  us  some,  then, 
for  I'm  about  starved." 

"  So'm  I,  too." 

And  one  would  hardly  have  doubted  it, 
to  see  them  both  eat.  The  doughnuts  were 
sweet  and  spicy,  and  cheering  to  the  spirits ; 
the  young  travellers  did  not  once  stop  to 
consider  that  they  might  need  them  more 
by  and  by.  Children  are  not,  as  a  general 
rule,  very  deeply  concerned  about  the  fu 
ture.  Birds  of  the  air  may  have  some  idea 
where  to-morrow's  dinner  is  coming  from ; 
but  these  boys  neither  knew  nor  cared. 

"First  rate,"  remarked  Fred,  as  the  last 
doughnut  disappeared.  "But  I  don't  know 
about  going  to  sea.  It's  plaguy  tough  work 
climbing  ropes,  they  say,  and  I  heard  of  a 


GOING   TO   SEA.  169 

boy  that  got  whipped  so  hard  he  jumped 
overboard." 

"  Let's  not  go,  then,"   cried  Willy. 

"  Catch  me!"  said  Fred.  "I've  been 
thinking  of  the  lumb'ring  business.  They 
make  money  fast  as  you  can  wink  up  there 
to  the  Forks." 

"  Let's  go  lumbering,   then." 

"  Guess  we  wrill,  Billy.  You  see  the 
trees  don't  cost  anything,  —  they  grow  wild, 
—  and  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  chop 
'em  down." 

"Yes,"  said  Willy,  "and  we  need  red 
shirts  for  that.  I  never  chopped  a  tree's 
I  know  of.  Could,  though,  if  I  had  a 
sharp  axe.  Guess  I  could,  I  mean,  —  I 
mean  if  the  tree  wasn't  too  big !  " 

"  O,  we  shan't  chop  'em  ourselves,"  said 
Fred,  spitting  grandly.  "Wasn't  my  father 


170  LITTLE   GKANDFATHEK. 

a  lumberman  once,  and  got  rich  by  it? 
But  did  Tie  ever  cut  down  a  tree  ?  What's 
the  use  ?  Hire  men,  you  know." 

"O!"  exclaimed  Willy.  But  a  gleam 
of  common  sense  striking  him  next  moment, 
he  added,  "but  the  money;  where'll  we 
get  that?" 

"  O,  we'll  get  it  after  a  while,"  replied 
Fred,  vaguely.  "  My  father  was  a  poor 
boy  once.  Fact !  I've  heard  him  tell  about 
it.  Nothing  but  tow-cloth  breeches,  and 
wale-cloth  jacket,  off  there  to  Groton.  And 
he  made  butter  tubs  and  potash  tubs,  sir. 
And  he  took  his  pay  in  beaver  skins.  And 
then  he  went  afoot  to  Boston,  and  he 
rolled  a  barrel  of  lime  round  the  Falls,  sir. 
I've  heard  him  tell  it  five  million  times. 
And  my  aunt  Tempy,  she  rode  a-horse- 
back  three  hundred  miles  to  Concord. — 


GOING  TO  SEA.  171 

O,  poh  !  there's  lots  of  ways  to  make 
money,  if  you  try.  And  once  he  took  his 
pay  in  potash,  —  my  father  did  ;  and  he 
sold  tobacco.  O,  there's  ways  enough  to 
make  money  if  you  keep  your  eyes  open; 
that's  what  my  father  says." 

Willy's  eyes  were  open  enough,  if  that 
were  all.  At  any  rate,  he  was  trying  his 
very  best  to  keep  them  open.  Half  of  his 
mind  was  sleepy,  and  half  of  it  very  wide 
awake  indeed.  There  was  something  so 
inspiring  in  Fred's  confident  tone.  Rather 
misty  his  plans  might  be  as  yet ;  but  hadn't 
Willy  heard,  ever  since  he  could  remember, 
that  people  were  sure  to  succeed  if  they 
were  only  "  up  and  doing?" 

"  Come,  let's  start,"  said  he,  rising  eager 
ly,  as  the  bell  rang  for  nine.  "If  we  are 


172  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

going  to   the  Forks  we   must  go  to  Harlow 
first ;    I  know  that  much." 

And  turning  the  corner  at  the  left,  the 
two  wise  little  pilgrims  set  out  upon  their 
travels,  — 

"  Strange  countries  for  to  see." 


TO   THE   FORKS.  173 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TO   THE   FORKS. 

WILLY  started  upon  the  run ;  but  Fred, 
as  soon  as  he  could  overtake  him,  and  speak 
for  puffing,  exclaimed, — 

"  Now,  Will  Parlin,  what's  the  use  ? 
We've  got  a  good  start,  and  let's  take  it 
fair  and  easy." 

This  was  the  most  sensible  remark  Fred 
had  made  for  the  evening.  Lazy  and  good- 
for-nothing  as  he  was,  he  had  spoken  the 
truth  for  once.  If  they  were  ever  to  arrive 
at  the  Forks,  they  were  likely  to  do  it 
much  sooner  by  walking  than  running. 
Willy  did  not  understand  this.  Being  as 


174  LITTLE   GBANDFATHEK. 

lithe  as  a  young  deer,  he  preferred  "  bound 
ing  over  the  plains  "  to  lagging  along  with 
such  a  slow  walker  as  Fred. 

The  town  of  Harlow  was  twelve  miles 
away,  and  it  was  Fred's  opinion  that  they 
should  reach  it  in  season  for  an  early 
breakfast.  * 

"I've  got  two  dollars  in  my  pocket," 
said  he,  "  and  I  guess  we  shan't  starve 
this  fall." 

Willy  thought  of  the  eighteen  cents  he 
had  been  six  weeks  in  saving,  but  was 
ashamed  to  speak  of  such  a  small  sum. 

"  Well,  we  shan't  get  to  Harlow,  or  any 
where  else,  till  day  after  to-morrow  after 
noon,  if  you  don't  hurry  up,"  said  he,  im 
patiently.  "You.  say  you  can't  run,  but 
I  should  think  you  might  do  as  much  as 
to  march.  Now,  come,  —  left,  foot  out,  — 
while  I  whistle." 


TO   THE  FOKKS.  *  175 

Fred  tried  his  best,  but  he  was  one  of 
the  few  boys  born  with  "  no  music  in  his 
soul,"  and  he  could  not  keep  step. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Fred 
.Chase?" 

"Don't  know.  Guess  you  haven't  got 
the  right  tune."  + 

Willy  stopped  short  in  "  Come,  Philan 
der,"  and  turned  it  into  "Hail,  Columbia;" 
but  it  made  no  difference.  "  Roy's  Wife," 
or  "  Fy !  let  us  a'  to  the  wedding,"  was 
as  good  as  anything  else.  Fred  took  long 
steps  or  short  steps,  just  as  it  happened, 
and  Willy  never  had  understood,  and  could 
not  understand  now,  what  did  ail  Fred's 
feet ;  it  was  very  tiresome,  indeed. 

"  Look  here :  what  tune  have  I  been 
whistling  now?  See  if  you  know?" 

"Why,   that's  —  that's  —  some  kind  of  a 


176  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

dancing  tune.  Can't  think.  O,  yes ;  '  Old 
Hundred.'  " 

"  Fred  Chase  !  "  thundered  Willy ;  "  that's 
''Yankee  Doodle!'  Anybody  that  don't  know 
Yankee  Doodle  must  be  a  fool!" 

"Why,  look  here  now:  I  know  Yankee 
Doodle  as  well  as  you  do,  Will  Parlin,  only 
you  didn't  whistle  it  right!" 

At  another  time  Willy  would  have  been 
quick  to  laugh  at  such  an  absurd  remark ; 
but  now,  tired  as  he  was,  it  made  him 
downright  angry.  He  stopped  whistling, 
and  did  not  speak  again  for  five  minutes. 
Meanwhile  he  began  to  grow  very  sleepy. 

"Wish  we  were  going  to  battle,"  said 
Fred  at  last,  for  the  sake  of  breaking  the 
silence.  "  I'd  like  to  be  in  a  good  fight  ; 
that  is,  if  they  had  decent  music.  I  could 
march  to  a  fife  and  drum  first  rate." 


TO   THE  FORKS.  177 

"  Could,  hey  !  Then  why  didn't  you 
ever  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  don'  know  how 
to  march  ?  Know  how  as  well  as  you  do." 

"Think's  likely,"  snarled  Willy,  ufor  I 
can't  march  if  I  have  you  to  march  with. 
Can't  keep  step  with  anybody  that  ain't 
bright!" 

"  Nor  I  can't,  either,  Will  Parlin ;  that's 
why  I  can't  keep  step  with  you." 

"  Well,  then,  go  along  to  the  other  side 
of  the  road  —  will  you  ?  I  won't  have  you 
here  with  your  hippity-hop,  hippity-hop." 

"  Go  to  the  other  side  of  the  road  your 
own  self,  and  see  how  you  like  it,"  retorted 
Fred.  UI  won't  have  you  here,  with  your 
tramp,  tramp,  tramp." 

Was  ever  anybody  so  provoking  as  Fred  ? 
Willy  had  an  impulse  to  give  him  a  hard 
12 


178  LITTLE  GKAKDFATHEK. 

push ;  but  before  he  could  extend  his  arm 
to  do  it,  he  had  forgotten  what  they  were 
quarrelling  about.  That  strange  sleepiness 
had  drowned  every  other  feeling,  and  Fred's 
"tramp,  tramp,  tramp,"  spoken  in  such 
drawling  tones,  had  fairly  caused  his  eyes 
to  draw  together. 

"  Guess  I'll  drop  down  here  side  of  the 
road,  and  rest  a  minute,"  said  he. 

"  So'll  I,"  said  Fred,  always  ready  for  a 
halt  if  not  for  a  march. 

But  it  was  a  cold  night.  As  soon  as 
they  had  thrown  themselves  upon  the  fad 
ed  grass  they  began  to  feel  the  pinchings 
of  the  frost. 

"  None  of  your  dozing  yet  a  while,"  said 
Fred,  who,  though  tired,  was  not  as  sleepy 
as  Willy.  "  We  must  push  along  till  we 
get  to  a  barn  or  something." 


TO  THE   FORKS.  179 

Willy  rose  to  his  feet,  promptly. 

"Look  up  here  and  show  us  your  eyes, 
Billy.  I've  just  thought  of  something. 
How  do  I  know  but  you're  sound  asleep 
this  minute  ?  Generally  sleep  with  your 
eyes"  open  —  don't  you  —  and  walk  round 
too,  just  the  same  ?  " 

Fred  said  this  with  a  cruel  laugh.  He 
knew  Willy  was  very  sensitive  on  the  sub 
ject  of  sleep-walking,  and  he  was  quite  will 
ing  to  hurt  his  feelings.  Why  shouldn't 
he  be  ?  Hadn't  Willy  hurt  his  feelings  by 
making  those  cutting  remarks  in  regard  to 
music  ?  As  for  the  Golden  Rule,  Master 
Fred  was  not  the  boy  to  trouble  himself 
about  that ;  not  in  the  least. 

"  I  haven't  walked  in  my  sleep  since  I 
was  a  small  boy,"  said  Willy,  trying  his 
best  to  force  back  the  tears ;  "  and  I  don't 


180  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER . 

think    it's    fair     to    plague     me     about     it 
now." 

"Well,  then,  you  needn't  plague  me  for 
not  keeping  step  to  your  old  whistling.  If 
you  want  to  know  what  the  reason  is  I 
can't  keep  step,  I'll  tell  you  ;  it's  because 
my  feet  are  sore.  They've  been  tender 
ever  since  I  blistered  'em  last  summer." 

Willy  was  too  polite  this  time,  or  perhaps 
too  sleepy,  to  contradict. 

It  did  seem  as  if  the  road  to  Harlow 
was  the  longest,  and  the  hills  the  steepest, 
ever  known. 

"  Call  it  twelve  miles  —  it's  twenty!" 
said  Fred,  beginning  to  limp. 

"Would  be  twenty-five,"  said  Willy,  "  if 
the  hills  were  rolled  out  smooth." 

They  trudged  on  as  bravely  as  they 
could,  but,  in  spite  of  the  cold,  had  to  stop 


TO   THE  FOEKS.  181 

now  and  then  to  rest,  and  by  the  time 
they  had  gone  eight  miles  it  seemed  as  if 
they  could  hold  out  no  longer. 

"I  shouldn't  be  tired  if  I  were  in  your 
place,"  said  Fred  ;  "  it's  my  feet,  you 
know." 

"  Here's  a  barn,"  exclaimed  Willy,  joy 
fully. 

"  Hush  !  "  whispered  cautious  Fred  ; 
"  don't  you  see  there's  a  house  to  it,  and 
it  wouldn't  do  to  risk  it  ?  Folks  would  find 
us  out,  sure  as  guns." 

A  little  farther  on  there  was  a  hayrack 
at  the  side  of  the  road,  filled  with  boards ; 
and  after  a  short  consultation  the  boys 
decided  to  climb  into  it,  and  "camp  down 
a  few  minutes." 

"  It  won't  do  to  stay  long,"  said  Fred, 
"  for  it  must  be  'most  sunrise ;  and  we 


182  LITTLE  GBANDFATHER. 

should  be  in  a  pretty  fix  if  anybody  should 
go  by  and  catch  .us." 

It  was  only  one  o'clock!  The  boards 
were  not  as  soft  as  feathers,  by  any  means, 
but  the  boys  thought  they  wouldn't  have 
minded  that  if  they  could  only  have  had  a 
blanket  to  spread  over  them.  More  forlorn 
than  the  "  babes  in  the  wood,"  they  had 
not  even  the  prospect  that  any  birds  would 
come  and  cover  them  with  leaves. 

As  they  stretched  themselves  upon  the 
boards,  Willy  thought  of  his  prayer.  "  Now 
I  lay  me  down  to  sleep."  Never,  since  he 
could  remember,  had  he  gone  to  bed  with 
out  that.  Would  it  do  to  say  it  now? 
Would  God  hear  him?  Ah,  but  would  it 
do  not  to  say  it  ?  So  he  breathed  it  softly 
to  himself,  lest  Fred  should  hear  and  laugh 
at  him. 


TO  THE  FOKKS.  183 

It  was  so  cold  that  Fred  declared  He 
couldn't  shut  his  eyes,  and  shouldn't  dare 
to,  either ;  but  in  less  than  a  minute  both 
the  boys  were  fast  asleep. 

They  had  slept  about  three  hours,  with 
out  stirring  or  even  dreaming,  when  they 
were  suddenly  wakened  by  the  glare  of  a 
tin  lantern  shining  in  their  eyes,  and  a 
gruff  voice  calling  out, — 

"  Who's  tins  ?     How  came  you  here  ?  " 

Willy  stared  at  the  man  without  speak 
ing.  Was  it  to-night,  or  last  night,  or  to 
morrow  night? 

Fred  had  not  yet  opened  his  eyes,  and 
the  worthy  farmer  was  obliged  to  shake 
him  for  half  a  minute  before  he  was  fairly 
aroused. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  What  are  you  here 
for  ?  "  repeated  he. 


184  UTTLE   GBAKDFATHER. 

Then  tlie  boys  sat  upright  on  the  boards 
and  looked  at  each  other.  They  were  both 
covered  with  a  thick  coating  of  frost,  as 
white  as  if  they  had  been  out  in  a  snow 
storm.  What  should  they  say  to  the  man? 
It  would  never  do  to  tell  him  their  real 
names,  for  then  he  would  very  likely  know 
who  their  fathers  were,  and  send  them 
straight  home.  Dear !  dear !  What  a  pity 
they  happened  to  fall  asleep !  And  why 
need  the  man  have  come  out  there  in  the 
night  with  a  lantern?  —  a  man  who  proba 
bly  had  a  bed  of  his  own  to  sleep  in. 

"I  —  I  —  "  said  Willy,  brushing  the  frost 
off  his  knees ;  and  that  is  probably  as  far 
as  he  would  have  gone  with  his  speech, 
for  his  tongue  failed  him  entirely  ;  but 
Fred,  being  afraid  he  might  tell  the  whole 
truth,  —  which  was  a  bad  habit  of  Willy's, 


TO  THE  FORKS.  185 

—  gave  him  a  sly  poke  in  the  side,  as  a 
hint  to  stop.  Willy  couldn't  and  wouldn't 
make  up  a  wrong  story ;  but  Fred  could, 
and  there  was  nothing  he  enjoyed  more. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  clearing  his  throat, 
and  looking  up  at  the  farmer  with  a  face 
of  baby-like  innocence,  "  I  guess  you  don't 
know  me  —  do  you  ?  My  name's  Johnny 
Quirk,  and  this  boy  here's  my  brother, 
Sammy  Quirk." 

Willy  drew  back  a  little.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  himself  had  been  telling  a  lie.  Ah ! 
and  wasn't  it  next  thing  to  it  ? 

"  Quirk?  Quirk?  I  don't  know  any 
Quirks  round  in  these  parts,"  said  the 
farmer. 

"  O,  we  live  up  yonder,"  said  Fred, 
pointing  with  his  finger.  "  We  live  two 
miles  beyond  Haiiow,  and  we  were  down 


186  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

to  Cross  Lots  to  aunt  Nancy's,  you  see, 
and  they  sent  for  us  to  come  home,  — 
mother  did.  Our  father's  dreadful  sick: 
they  don't  expect  hell  get  well." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  Poor  little  creeturs ! 
And  here  you  are  out  doors,  sleeping  on 
the  rough  boards.  Come  right  along  into 
the  house  with  me,  and  get  warm.  What's 
the  matter  with  your  father  ?  " 

"  Some  kind  of  a  fever  ;  and  he  don't 
know  anything ;  he's  awful  sick,"  replied 
Fred,  running  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes. 

The  good  farmer's  heart  was  touched. 
He  thought  of  his  own  little  boys,  no 
older  than  these,  and  how  sad  it  would  be 
if  they  should  be  left  fatherless. 

"  Come  in  and  get  warm,"  said  he.  "  It's 
four  o'clock,  and  you  shall  sleep  in  a  good 
bed  till  six,  and  then  I'll  wake  you  up, 
and  give  you  some  breakfast." 


TO  THE  FOBKS.  187 

"  O,  I  don't  know  as  we  can;  we  ought 
to  be  going,"  said  Fred,  wiping  his  eyes; 
"father  may  be  dead." 

"  Yes,  but  you  shall  come  in,"  persisted 
the  farmer ;  "  you're  all  but  froze.  If 
'twas  my  little  boys,  I  should  take  it  kind 
ly  in  anybody  that  made  'em  go  in  and  get 
warm.  Besides,  you  can  travel  as  fast 
again  if  you  start  off  kind  of  comfortable." 

A  good  bed  was  so  refreshing  to  think 
of  that  the  boys  did  not  need  much  urging ; 
but  Willy  entered  the  house  with  downcast 
eyes  and  feelings  of  shame,  whereas  Fred 
could  look  their  new  friend  in  the  face, 
and  answer  all  his  questions  without  win 
cing. 

Mr.  Johonnet  thought  himself  a  shrewd 
man,  but  he  could  not  see  into  the  hearts 
of  these  young  children.  He  liked  the  ap- 


188  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

pearance  of  "  Johnny  Quirk,"  an  "  open- 
hearted,  pretty-spoken  little  chap,  that  any 
father  might  be  proud  of;"  but  "  Sammy" 
did  not  please  him  as  well ;  he  was  not  so 
frank,  or  so  respectful,  —  seemed  really  to 
be  a  little  sulky.  There  are  some  boys 
who  pass  off  finely  before  strangers,  because 
they  are  not  in  the  least  bashful,  and  have 
a  knack  of  putting  on  any  manner  they 
choose ;  and  Fred  was  one  of  these.  Willy, 
a  far  nobler  boy,  was  naturally  timid  before 
his  betters ;  but  even  if  he  had  been  as  bold 
as  Fred,  his  conscience  would  never  have 
let  him  say  and  do  such  untrue  things. 

Willy  suffered.  Although  he  had  told  no 
lies  himself,  he  had  stood  by  and  heard 
them  told  without  correcting  them.  How 
much  better  was  that  ?  Still  it  seemed 
as  if,  as  things  were,  he  could  not  very 


TO   THE  FORKS.  189 

well  have  helped  himself.  So  much  for 
falling  into  bad  company.  "  Eggs  should 
not  dance  with  stones." 

"  Well ;  I  never'd  have  come  with  Fred 
Chase  if  father  hadn't  whipped  me  'most 
to  death." 

And,  soothed  with  this  flimsy  excuse, 
Willy  was  soon  asleep  again. 

At  six  o'clock  Mr.  Johonnet  called  the 
little  travellers  to  breakfast.  The  coffee 
was  very  dark-colored,  with  molasses  boiled 
in  it,  and  there  were  fried  pork,  fried  pota 
toes  swimming  in  fat,  and  clammy  "  rye 
and  indian  bread."  None  of  these  dishes 
were  very  inviting  to  the  boys,  who  both 
had  excellent  fare  at  home  ;  and  they 
would  have  made  but  a  light  meal,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  pumpkin  pie  and 
cheese,  which  Mr.  Johonnet  asked  his  wife 
to  set  on  the  table. 


190  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"  Poor  children,  they  must  eat,"  said 
he;  "for  they've  got  to  get  home  to  see 
their  sick  father." 

There  were  so  many  questions  to  be 
asked,  that  the  boys  made  quick  work  of 
their  breakfast  and  hurried  away. 

u  There,  glad  we're  out  of  that  scrape," 
said  Fred. 

"But  didn't  you  lie?  Why,  Fred,  how 
could  you  lie  so  ?  " 

"  JPm  !  Did  it  up  handsome  —  didn't  I, 
though  ?  Wouldn't  give  a  red  cent  for 
you.  You  haven't  the  least  gumption  about 
lying." 

Willy  shivered  and  drew  away  a  little. 
His  fine  nature  was  shocked  by  Fred's 
coarseness  and  lack  of  principle ;  still,  this 
was  the  boy  he  had  chosen  for  an  intimate 
friend ! 


TO  THE  FORKS.  191 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  me  you'd  have 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,"  chuckled  Fred. 
-"You  hung  your  head  down  as  if  you'd 
been  stealing  a  sheep." 

It  was  three  miles  farther  to  Harlow, 
and  Fred  grumbled  all  the  way  about  his 
sore  feet. 

"  See  that  yellow  house  through  the 
trees  ?  "  said  he.  "  That's  my  uncle  Diah's  ; 
wish  we  could  go  there  and  rest." 

"  But  what's  the  use  to  wish?"  returned 
Willy.  "Look  here,  Fred;  isn't  there  a 
ford  somewhere  near  here  ?  " 

To  be  sure  there  was.  They  had  forgot 
ten  that;  and  sometimes  the  ford  was  not 
fordable,  and  it  was  necessary  to  go  round 
about  in  order  to  cross  a  ferry.  While 
they  were  puzzling  over  this  new  dilemma, 
a  stage-horn  sounded. 


192  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"  That's  the  Harlow  driver  ;  he  knows 
us,"  cried  Fred;  "let's  hide  quick." 

They  concealed  themselves  behind  some 
aspen  trees  on  the  bank,  and  "peeking" 
out,  could  see  the  stage-coach  and  its  four 
sleek  horses,  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile  away, 
driving  down  the  ferry-hill  into  the  river. 

uGood!"  said  Willy;  "there's  the  ford, 
and  now  we  know.  And  the  water  isn't 
up  to  the  horses'  knees ;  so  we  can  cross 
well  enough." 

"  Yes,  and  get  our  breeches  wet,"  groaned 
Fred. 

"  O,  that's  nothing.  Lumbermen  don't 
mind  wet  breeches,"  said  Willy,  cheerily. 

"  Lumbermen  ?  Who  said  we  were  lum 
bermen  ?  I  shan't  try  it  yet  a  while ;  my 
feet  are  too  plaguy  sore !  " 

"Shan't  try  what?" 


TO  THE  FOEKS.  193 

"Well,  nothing,  I  guess,"  yawned  Fred; 
"  lumber  nor  nothing  else." 

The  stage  had  passed,  by  this  time,  and 
they  were  walking  towards  the  ford.  When 
they  reached  it,  Willy,  nothing  daunted, 
drew  off  his  stockings  and  shoes,  and  began 
to  roll  up  his  pantaloons. 

"Look  here,  Billy;  if  you  see  any  fun 
in  this  business,  I  don't !  " 

"  Fun  ?  O,  but  we  don't  spect  that, 
you  know,"  said  heroic  Willy,  stepping  into 
the  stream. 

"  Cold  as  ice,  I  know  by  the  way  you 
cringe,"  said  lazy  Fred,  who  had  not  yet 
untied  his  shoes. 

"Come  on,  Fred  ;  who  minds  the  cold?  " 

"  Now  wait  a  minute,  Billy.  I  hadn't  got 
through  talking.  I'm  not  going  to  kill  my 
self  for  nothing ;  I  want  some  fun  out  of  it." 
13 


194  LITTLE   GBANDFATHEK. 

"Do  come  on  and  behave  yourself," 
called  back  Willy;  "when  we  get  rich 
we'll  have  the  fun." 

"Well,  go  and  get  rich  then,"  cried 
Fred ;  "I  shan't  stir  another  step !  My 
father's  got  money  enough,  and  I  needn't 
turn  my  hand  over." 

Willy  stopped  short. 

"But  you  are  going  to  the  Forks  with 
me?" 

"Who   said  I  was?" 

"  Why,  you  said  so,  yourself.  You  were 
the  one  that  put  it  in  my  head." 

"  O,  that  was  only  talk.  I  didn't  mean 
anything." 

Willy  turned  square  round  in  the  water, 
and  glared  at  Fred,  with  eyes  that  seemed 
to  shoot  sparks  of  fire. 

"  Yes  —  well,  yes,  I  did  kind  of  mean  to, 


DESERTED.  —  Page  195. 


TO  THE  FORKS.  195 

too,"  cried  Fred,  shrinking  under  the  gaze ; 
"  but  I've  got  awful  sick  of  it." 

"Who   called  me  a  SNEAK?"    exclaimed 
Willy,  his  voice  shaking  with  wrath.     "  Who 
called    me   my   mamma's   cry-baby  ?      Who 
said  he  spected  I'd  back  out  ? " 
"  But  you  see,  Billy,  my  feet ! " 
Willy,  whose  own  feet  were  nearly  freez 
ing,   replied   by   a   sniff  of  contempt.      He 
planted  himself  on  a  rock  in  the  middle  of 
the   river,   and  awaited  the  rest  of  Fred's 
speech. 

"  You  know  I've  got  folks  living  this  side, 
back  there  a  piece  —  my  uncle  Diah.  That's 
where  I'll  go.  They'll  let  me  make  a  visit, 
and  carry  me  home  :  they  did  it  last 
spring." 

4<  And  what  about  me,  Fred  Chase  ?  " 
"You?    Why,  you  may  go  where  you're 
a  mind  to." 


196  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"What?  Me,  that  you  coaxed  so  to 
come?" 

Fred  quailed  before  the  look  and  the 
tone. 

"Well,  I'd  take  you  to  uncle  Diah's, 
Willy,  only  —  well  —  I  can't  very  well, 
that's  all." 

Willy  suddenly  turned  his  back,  and 
cleared  the  stream  with  one  bound. 


I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  197 


CHAPTER    XII. 

"I  HA'E  NAEBODY   NOW." 

STANDING  on  the  bank,  Willy  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder  at  Fred,  and  saw 
him  dart  off  into  a  shady  cow-path.  No 
doubt  he  was  going  to  his  uncle  Diah's. 
When  he  was  fairly  out  of  sight,  and  Willy 
comprehended  at  last  that  he  had  really 
left  him,  and  did  not  mean  to  come  back, 
he  sat  down  on  a  stone  by  the  wayside, 
and  began  to  rave. 

"  The  tormentable,  mean,  naughty  boy  I 
I'd  be  ashamed  to  treat  a  skeeter  the  way 
he's  treated  me !  Did  I  ever  coax  a  boy 
to  go  anywhere  with  me,  and  then  run  off 


198  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

and  leave  him  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
river  ?  No,  sir.  Sore  feet,  hey  ?  Didn't 
anybody  ever  have  sore  feet  'fore  now,  I 
wonder?  Why,  I  had  chilblains  last  win 
ter  so  deep  they  dug  a  hole  into  my  heels, 
and,  —  well,  it's  no  use  to  make  a  great 
fuss,  —  I  didn't  cry  but  two  or  three  times. 
Blisters!  what's  that?  Nothing  but  little 
puffs  of  water !  Perhaps  that  wasn't  why 
he  stopped,  though.  Just  as  likely  as  not 
he  meant  all  the  time  to  stop,  and  come 
a-purpose  to  see  Mr.  Diah.  How  can  you 
tell  ?  A  boy  that  lies  so !  There,  there, 
come  to  think  of  it,  shouldn't  wonder  if  his 
feet  weren't  sore  a  bit !  Wish  I'd  looked 
at  'em ! 

"  Well,  he's  backed  out,  Fred  Chase  has ! 
I  should  think  he'd  feel  so  mean  he  nev- 
er'd  want  to  show  his  head  anywhere  again ! 


i  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  199 

'Fore  I'd  sneak  out  when  I  got  started ! 
Eh,  for  shame !  " 

Willy  tore  up  a  handful  of  grass,  and 
threw  it  into  the  road,  and  the  action 
served  to  relieve  him  a  little. 

"Well,  what'll  I  do?  now  let's  think. 
If  a  tiger  should  come  right  down  this 
ferry-hill,  and  tear  me  all  to  pieces,  Fred 
wouldn't  care.  'Course  not.  All  he  cares 
is  to  get  enough  to  eat,  and  not  make  his 
feet  sore.  He  don't  care  what  comes  of 
me.  I've  got  to  think  it  out  for  myself, 
what  I'd  better  do.  Got  to  do  it  myself, 
too,  all  alone,  and  there  won't  be  anybody 
to  help  me.  Pretty  scrape,  I  should  think ! 
Might  have  known  better'n  to  come! 

"  Well ;  will  I  be  a  lumberman  and  go 
up  to  the  Forks  ?  Let's  see ;  I  don'  know 
the  way  up  there.  That  makes  it  bad, 


200  LITTLE   GKANDFATHER. 

'cause  I  guess  there  isn't  much  of  any 
road  to  it  'cept  spotted  trees ;  that's  what 
I  heard  once.  Most  likely  I'd  get  lost. 
Fred  wouldn't  care  if  I  did ;  be  glad,  I 
s'pose.  But,  then,  there's  bears.  Ugh  ! 
Pshaw !  who's  afraid  of  bears  ?  And  then 
there's  mother — O,  I  didn't  mean  to  think 
about  mother ! " 

Willy  sighed,  but  soon  roused  himself. 

"  Well,  what'll  I  do  ?  O,  wasn't  that  a 
real  poor  breakfast  the  woman  gave  us? 
Don't  see  how  I  swallowed  it!  Makes  me 
sick  to  think  of  it.  Didn't  taste  much  like 
mother's  breakfasts!  I  don't  want  to  go 
where  I'll  have  to  drink  molasses  in  my 
coffee,  and  eat  fatty  potatoes  too. 

"And  who'd  take  a  little  boy  like  me? 
Folks  laugh  at  little  boys  —  think  they 
don't  know  a  thing.  And  folks  always  ask 


I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  201 

so  many  questions.  They  want  to  know 
where  you  come  from,  and  who  your  father 
is,  and  if  he's  got  any  cows.  And  I  won't 
lie.  And  next  thing  they'd  be  sending  me 
home.  They'd  say  home  was  the  best 
place  for  little  boys.  H'm !  So  it  is,  if 
you  don't  have  to  get  whipped ! 

"0,  my!  Didn't  I  have  to  take  it  that 
last  time  ?  Father  never  hurt  so  before. 
Made  all  the  bad  come  up  in  my  throat,  and 
I  can't  swallow  it  down  yet.  It  would  be 
good  enough  for  him  if  I  was  dead ;  for 
then  every  time  he  went  out  to  the  barn 
there'd  be  that  horsewhip  hanging  up  on 
the  nail ;  and  he'd  think  to  himself  — 
4  Where's  that  little  boy  I  used  to  whip  ? ' 
And  then  the  tears  will  come  into  his  eyes, 
I  pretty  much  know  they  will.  I  saw  the 
tears  in  his  eyes  once  when  I  was  sick. 


202  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

He  felt  real  bad  ;  but  when  I  got  well, 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  whip  me  again. 
Whippings  .  don't  do  any  good.  All  that 
does  any  good  is  when  mother  talks  to  me ; 
and  that  don't  do  any  good,  either.  She 
made  me  learn  this  verse  :  — 

" '  And  thou,  Solomon,  my  son,  know 
thou  the  God  of  thy  fathers,  and  serve 
him  with  a  perfect  heart  and  a  willing 
mind.  If  thou  seek  him,  he  will  be  found 
of  thee,  but  if  thou  forsake  him,  he  will 
cast  thee  off  forever.' 

"  There,  I  know  that  straight  as  a  book. 
She  prays  to  God  to  make  me  better,  but 
He  doesn't  do  it  yet,  and  I  should  think 
she'd  get  discouraged.  '  Heart  like  a  stone,' 
she  said.  That  made  me  want  to  laugh, 
for  I  could  feel  it  beating  all  the  time  she 
spoke,  and  it  couldn't  if  it  was  a  stone  ! 


I  HA'E  KAEBODY  NOW.  203 

Bad  heart,  though,  or  I  wouldn't  be  so 
bad  myself. 

"  Well,  it's  no  use  to  think  about  bad 
ness  or  goodness  now,"  said  Willy,  flinging 
another  handful  of  grass  into  the  road. 
"  Whafll  I  do?  That's  the  question. 

"  You  see,  now,  folks  have  such  a  poor 
opinion  of  boys,"  added  he,  his  thoughts 
spinning  round  the  same  circle  again.  "  Most 
wish  I  was  a  girl.  O,  my  stars,  what  an 
idea!" 

And  completely  disgusted  with  himself, 
he  jumped  up  and  turned  a  somerset. 

"  Better  be  whipped  three  times  a  day 
than  be  a  girl ! 

"  But  father  felt  real  bad  that  time  I 
was  sick,  for  I  saw  him.  Not  so  bad  as 
mother,  though.  Poor  mother!  I  no  busi 
ness  to  gone  off  and  left  her.  What  you 


204  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

s'pose  she  thought  last  night,  when  I  didn't 
come  back  from  the  post  office  ?  " 

This  question  had  tried  to  rise  before, 
but  had  always  been  forced  back. 

"  She  waited  till  nine  o'clock,  and  didn't 
think  much  queer.  But  after  that  she 
come  out  of  the  bedroom,  with  her  face 
tied  up,  and  said  she,  'Hasn't  Willy  got 
home  yet?'  Then  they  told  her  'No,'  and 
father  scowled.  And  she  sat  up  till  ten 
o'clock,  and  then  do  you  s'pose  anybody 
went  out  doors  to  hunt  ?  She  didn't  sleep 
a  wink  all  night.  Don't  see  how  folks  can 
lie  awake  so.  I  couldn't  if  I  should  try; 
but  I'm  not  a  woman,  you  know,  and  I 
don't  believe  I  should  care  much  about  my 
boys,  if  I  was.  Would  I  mend  their  trou- 
sis  for  'em,  when  they  tore  'em  on  a  nail, 
going  where  I  told  'em  not  to?  For,  says 


I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  205 

I,  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  a  child  that 
won't  mind.  But  you  see,  mother  — 

"  Poor  mother,  what'll  she  do  without 
me?  She  said  there  wasn't  anybody  she 
could  take  in  her  arms  to  hug  but  just 
me.  Stephen's  too  big  to  sit  in  her  lap, 
and  Love's  too  big ;  and  there  wouldn't 
anybody  think  of  hugging  Seth,  if  he  was 
ever  so  little. 

"  Yes,  mother  wants  me.  I  remember 
that  song  she  sings  about  the  Scotch  woman 
that  lost  her  baby,  and  she  cries  a  little 
before  she  gets  through." 

The  words  were  set  to  a  plaintive  air, 
and  Willy  hummed  it  over  to  himself,  — 

"  I  ha'e  naebody  now,  I  ha'e  naebody  now 

To  clasp  at  my  bosom  at  even, 
O'er  bis  calm  sleep  to  breathe  out  a  vow, 
And  pray  for  the  blessing  of  Heaven." 


206  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

"Poor  mother,  how  that  makes  her  cry! 
Why,  I  declare,  I'm  crying  too  !  Somehow 
seems's  if  I  couldn't  get  along  without 
mother.  But  there,  I  won't  be  a  cry-baby  ! 
Hush  up,  Willy  Paiiin  ! 

"WHAT'LL  I  DO?  Wish  I  hadn't  come. 
Wish  I'd  thought  more  about  mother  — 
how  she's  going  to  feel. 

".What  if  I  should  turn  right  round  now, 
and  go  home?  Why,  father'd  whip  me 
worse 'n  ever  —  tJiafs  what.  Well,  who 
cares  ?  It'll  feel  better  after  it's  done 
smarting.  Guess  I  can  stand  it.  Look  here, 
Will  Parlin,  I'm  going." 

Bravo,  Willy  !  With  both  feet  he  plunged 
into  the  river,  and  waded  slowly  across. 
Very  slowly,  for  his  mind  was  not  fully 
made  up  yet.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
thinking  to  be  done  first ;  but  he  might 


i  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  207 

as  well  be  moving  on  while  he  thought. 
Every  now  and  then  rebellious  pride,  or 
anger,  or  shame  would  get  the  better  of 
him,  and  he  would  wheel  round,  with  the 
impulse  to  strike  off  into  the  unknown 
Somewhere,  where  boys  lived  without  whip 
pings.  But  the  thought  of  his  mother  al 
ways  stopped  him. 

Was  there  an  invisible  cord  which 
stretched  from  her  heart  to  his  —  a  cord 
of  love,  which  drew  him  back  to  her  side  ? 
He  could  see  her  sorrowful  face,  he  could 
hear  her  pleading  voice,  and  the  very  trem 
ble  in  it  when  she  sang,  — 

11 1  ha'e  naebody  now,  I  ha'e  naebody  now." 

%» 

"  But  I'd  never  go  back  and  take  that 
whipping,  if  it  wasn't  for  mother  !  " 

He  no  longer  felt  obliged  to  hide  from 


208  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

the  approach  of  every  human  being ;  and 
when  a  pedler,  driving  a  "cart  of  notions," 
called  out,  "  Want  a  lift,  little  youngster  ?  " 
he  was  very  glad  to  accept  the  offer.  To 
be  sure,  he  only  rode  two  or  three  miles, 
but  it  was  a  great  help. 

It  was  noon,  by  that  time,  "high  noon 
too,"  and  the  smell  of  nice  dinners  floated 
out  to  him  from  the  farm-houses,  as  he 
trudged  by;  but  to  beg  a  meal  he  was 
ashamed.  When  he  reached  Cross  Lots 
it  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  He 
went  up  to  the  stump  near  the  mill,  where 
he  and  Freddy  had  sat  the  night  before ; 
and,  as  he  seated  himself,  he  thought  with 
a  pang  of  that  pocket  full  of  doughnuts, 
so  freely  made  way  with. 

He  had  eighteen  cents  in  his  wallet ;  but 
what  good  did  it  do,  when  there  was  no 


I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  209 

store  at  hand  where  a  body  could  buy  so 
much  as  a  sheet  of  gingerbread  ?  He  was 
starving  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  like  that 
unfortunate  man  whose  touch  turned  all 
the  food  he  put  in  his  mouth  into  gold. 

Beginning  to  think  he  would  almost  be 
willing  to  be  whipped  for  the  sake  of  a 
good  supper,  he  rose  and  walked  on. 

When  he  reached  the  Noonin  farm,  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  home,  the  night 
shadows  were  beginning  to  fall,  but  he 
could  see  in  the  distance  a  horse  and  wagon 
coming  that  made  his  heart  thump  loud. 
The  horse  was  old  Dolly ;  and  what  if  one 
of  the  men  in  the  wagon  should  be  his 
father  ? 

No,  it  was  only   Seth   and  Stephen ;   but 
Seth  was   almost  as  much    to  be   dreaded 
as  Mr.  Parlin  himself. 
14 


210  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

"You  here,  you  young  rogue?"  called 
out  Stephen,  in  a  tone  between  laughing 
and  scolding,  for  he  would  not  have  Willy 
suspect  how  relieved  they  were  at  finding 
him.  "You  here?  And  where's  Fred?" 

"  Up  to  Harlow,  to  Mr.  Diah's,"  replied 
Willy,  and  coolly  climbed  into  the  wagon. 

"Better  wait  for  an  invitation.  How 
do  you  know  we  shall  let  you  ride  ?  "  said 
Stephen,  turning  the  horse's  head  towards 
home. 

"  First,  we'd  like  to  know  what  you've 
got  to  say  for  yourself,"  put  in  Seth,  in  that 
cold,  hard  tone,  which  always  made  Willy 
feel  as  if  he  didn't  care  how  he  had  acted, 
and  as  if  he  would  do  just  so  again. 

"I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  you  have 
been  a  very  wicked,  deceitful,  disobedient 
boy?" 


I  HA'E  NAEBODY  NOW.  211 

Willy  made  no  reply,  but  lay  down  on 
the  floor  of  the  wagon,  and  curled  himself 
up  like  a  caterpillar. 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  on  him,  Seth,"  said 
Stephen,  who  could  not  help  pitying  the 
poor  little  fellow  in  his  shame  and  embar 
rassment  ;  "  I  don't  believe  you  meant  to 
run  away — now  did  you,  Willy?" 

The  child  was  quite  touched  by  this 
unexpected  kindness.  So  they  were  not 
sure  he  did  mean  to  run  away?  If  he 
said  "  No,"  they  would  believe  him,  and 
then  perhaps  he  wouldn't  have  to  be 
whipped.  But  next  instant  his  better 
self  triumphed,  and  he  scorned  the  lie. 
Uncurling  himself  from  his  caterpillar  ball, 
he  stammered, — 

"Yes,  I  did  mean  to,  too." 

A  little  more,  and  he  would  have    told 


212  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEE. 

the  whole  story.  He  longed  to  tell  it  — 
how  life  had  seemed  a  burden  on  account 
of  his  whippings,  and  how  he  and  Fred 
had  planned  to  set  up  in  business  for 
themselves,  but  Fred  had  backed  out.  But 
before  he  had  time  to  speak,  Seth  said, 
sternly,  — 

"You   saucy  child!" 

He  had  taken  Willy's  quick  "  Yes,  I 
did  mean  to,  too,"  for  impertinence;  where 
as  it  was  one  of  the  bravest  speeches  the 
boy  ever  made,  and  did  him  honor. 

After  this  rebuke  from  Seth,  Willy  could 
not  very  well  go  on  with  his  confessions ; 
the  heart  was  gone  out  of  him,  and  he 
curled  up,  limp  and  quiet,  like  a  caterpillar 
again. 

"  Meant  to  run  away  —  did  you  ?  "  went 
on  Seth,  who  ought  to  have  known  better 


I  HA'E   NAEBODY  NOW.  213 

than  to  pursue  the  subject ;  "  to  run  away 
like  a  little  dirty  vagabond  !  You've  nearly 
killed  mother,  I  wish  you  to  understand. 
You'll  get  a  severe  thrashing  for  this.  I 
shall  tell  father  not  to  show  you  any 
mercy." 

"  Come,  now,  don't  kick  a  fellow  when 
he's  down,"  said  Stephen.  "  Willy  will  be 
ashamed  enough  of  this." 

"  Well,  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  !  If 
he'd  had  a  teaspoonful  of  brains  he'd  have 
known  better  than  to  cut  up  such  a  caper 
as  this.  Did  you  think  you  could  run  off 
so  far  but  that  we  could  find  you,  child?" 

No  answer. 

"  What  did  you  little  goslings  mean  to 
do  with  yourselves  ?  Live  on  acorns  ? 
And  what  did  Fred's  uncle  say  when  he 
saw  him  coming  into  the  house  in  that 
shape?" 


214  LITTLE   GEANDFATHEB. 

No  answer. 

Stephen  looked  down  at  the  curled-up 
bunch  on  the  floor  of  the  wagon,  and  as 
it  did  not  move,  he  gently  touched  it  with 
his  foot. 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  said  he,  "  I  guess 
he's  had  a  pretty  hard  cruise  of  it;  he's 
sound  asleep." 


CONCLUSION.  215 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

MKS.  P  ABLEST  saw  the  wagon  driving 
Tip  to  the  porch  door,  and  came  out  trem 
bling  and  too  much  frightened  to  speak. 
She  supposed  at  first  that  Willy  had  not 
come,  for  she  did  not  see  him  till  Seth 
and  Stephen  lifted  him  out  of  the  wagon, 
a  dead  weight  between  them. 

O,  her  baby  —  her  baby;  what  had  hap 
pened  to  her  dear  wee  Willie  ? 

"  There,  there,  mother,  don't  be  fright 
ened,"  said  Stephen,  cheerily;  "his  tramp 
has  been  too  much  for  him;  that's  all.  I 
guess  we'll  carry  him  right  up  stairs  to 
bed." 


216  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER 

"I  —  want  —  some  —  supper,"  moaned 
the  little  rebel,  waking  up  just  as  they 
were  laying  him  on  his  bed  in  the  pink 
chamber. 

His  mother  and  Love  watched  him  with 
real  pleasure,  as  he  devoured  cold  meat 
and  bread,  all  they  dared  let  him  have,  but 
not  half  as  much  as  he  craved.  Then  he 
fell  asleep  again,  and  did  not  wake  till 
noon  of  the  next  day.  His  mother  was 
bending  over  him  with  the  tenderest  love, 
just  as  if  he  had  never  given  her  a  mo 
ment's  trouble  in  his  life.  That  was  just 
like  his  dear  mother,  and  it  was  more 
than  Willy  could  bear ;  he  threw  his  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  buried  his  face  in  her 
bosom,  completely  subdued. 

"  O,  mother,  mother,  I'll  never  do  so 
again.'* 


CONCLUSION.  217 

"  My  darling,  I  am  sure  yon  never  will." 

"Where's   father?" 

"Down  stairs  in  the  dining-room,  I 
think." 

"  Well,  I'm  ready  ;  will  you  tell  him 
I'm  ready,"  cried  Willy,  drawing  a  quick 
breath. 

"  Ready   for  what,   dear  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  is  going  to  whip  me,  I  sup 
pose,  and  I  want  it  over  with." 

"And  how  do  you  feel  about  it,  my  son? 
Don't  you  think  you  deserve  to  be  whipped  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,  I  do,"  replied  Willy,  with  a  sud 
den  burst  of  candor;  "I  don't  see  how 
anybody  can  help  whipping  a  boy  that's 
acted  the  way  I  have." 

"  That's  nobly  said,  my  child,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Parlin,  stepping  out  of  the  large  clothes- 
press.  "I  happened  to  be  in  there  over- 


218  LITTLE   GRANDFATHER. 

hauling  the  trunk  that  has  my  Freemason 
clothes  in  it,  and  I  couldn't  but  overhear 
what  you've  been  saying." 

Willy  buried  his  face  in  the  pillow.  He 
was  willing  his  mother  should  know  his 
inmost  thoughts,  but  he  had  always  been 
afraid  of  his  father. 

"  And,  Willy,  since  you  take  so  kindly 
to  the  idea  of  another  whipping,  I  don't 
know  but  I  shall  let  you  off  this  time." 

Willy  opened  his   eyes  very  wide. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why,"  went  on  Mr.  Parlin. 
"  You  didn't  deserve  the  last  whipping  you 
had ;  so  that  will  go  to  offset  this  one, 
which  you  do  deserve." 

Willy's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  ;  still 
there  was  a  look  in  them  of  question  and 
surprise.  The  idea  of  his  ever  having  a 
whipping  that  his  father  thought  he  didn't 
deserve  ! 


CONCLUSION.  219 

"  You  were  in  a  shameful  state  that 
night,  Willy ;  I  can't  call  it  anything  else 
but  drunk;  but  I  know  now  how  it  hap 
pened;  there  was  brandy  in  the  cider." 

"  Brandy,  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Dr.  Potter  and  I  examined  the 
barrel  yesterday,  and  the  mixture  in  it  was 
at  least  one  third  brandy." 

"  O,  papa,  was  that  why  it  tasted  so 
bad  ?  I  drank  one  mugful,  and  didn't  like 
it ;  and  then  by  and  by  I  drank  another 
mugful;  but  that  was  all." 

"  Yes,  Willy  ;  so  you  told  me  when  I 
talked  with  you ;  and  I  didn't  believe  you 
then  ;  but  I  believe  you  now." 

"  O,  father,  I'm  so  glad !  "  cried  Willy, 
with  a  look  such  as  he  had  never  before 
given  his  father  —  a  beaming  look  of  grati 
tude  and  love.  I  think  he  was  happier  at 


220  LITTLE  GRANDFATHER. 

that  moment  to  know  that  his  father 
trusted  him,  than  to  know  he  would  not 
be  punished. 

He  little  thought  then  that  he  should 
never  have  another  whipping  as  long  as 
he  lived ;  but  so  it  proved.  Not  that  Mr. 
Parlin  ever  changed  his  mind  about  the 
good  effects  of  the  rod ;  but  when  he  saw 
that  Willy  was  really  trying  to  be  a  better 
boy,  he  had  more  patience  with  him. 

And  Willy  was  trying.  He  continued  to 
be  rather  hasty  and  headstrong,  but  the 
"  Indian  sulks "  gradually  melted  out  of 
his  disposition  like  ice  in  a  summer  river. 
This  exploit  of  running  away  had  a  hum 
bling  effect,  no  doubt ;  but  more  than  that, 
as  he  grew  older  he  learned  to  understand 
and  love  his  father  better.  He  found  that 
those  dreadful  whippings  had  been  given 


CONCLUSION.  221 

"more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,"  —  given 
as  a  help  to  make  him  better  ;  and  the 
time  came  when  he  thanked  his  father  for 
them. 

And  this  is  all  I  have  to  tell  of  his 
younger  days.  When  he  was  twenty- 
seven  years  old,  and  pretty  Patience  Ly- 
man  was  twenty,  they  were  married  in 
Squire  Lyman's  parlor,  by  Elder  Lovejoy, 
then  a  very  old  man. 

After  the  wedding  they  rode  at  once  to 
Willowbrook,  where  they  have  both  lived 
to  this  day ;  she,  the  dearest  of  old  ladies, 
and  he,  a  large,  beautiful,  white-headed 
old  man,  whom  no  one  would  now  think 
of  calling  the  Little  G-randf either. 


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